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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


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ROBERT WAYNE’S CHOICE. 

A Sensational Novel. 



NEW? YORK! 

J- 5- OGILV1E, Publisher 

57 Rose Street. 




Painless. 


In many towns where this wonderful medicine has been 
introduced, and given a fair trial, it has abolished the family 
medicine chest, and been found sufficient to cure nine-tenth3 
of the ordinary complaints incident to humanity ; and when 
diseases of months and years are thus removed or palliated in 
a few days, it is not wonderful that Beecham’s Pills should 
maintain their acknowledged popularity in both hemispheres. 
They cost only 25 cents , although the proverbial expres- 
sion all over the world is that they are “ worth a guinea a 
box,” for in truth one box will oftentimes be the means of 
saving more than one guinea in doctor’s bills 


REMEMBER THAT BEECHAM’S PILLS 

— ARE — 

A WONDERFUL MEDICINE 

FOR ALL 

BILIOUS AND NERVOUS DISORDERS 

SUCH AS 

CONSTIPATION, 

WEAK STOMACH, 
SICK - HEADACHE, 
LOSS OF APPETITE, 
IMPAIRED DIGESTION, 

DISORDERED LIVER AND ALL KINDRED DISEASES. 

Prepared only by Thos. Beeeham, St. Helens, Lancashire, England. B. F. 
Allen Co., Sole Agents for United States. 365 and 367 Canal St., N. Y., who (if 
your druggist oesnot keep them) will mail Beecham’s Pills on receipt of price, 25c. — 
but inquire first. Correspondents will p'ease mention J. S. Ogilvie’s B oks. 


OOOOOOOOOOOOOOC05000QOOOOOOOO o 




OR, 


The Midnight Elopement; 


ROBERT WAYNE’S CHOICE. 


AN EMOTIONAL NOVEL. 


• , . / 

BY EMMA SANDERS. 


THE PEERLESS SERIES, No. 71. Issued Quarterly. August, 1893. $1.00 per year. Entered at 

New York Post-Office as second-class matter. Copyright, 1893, by J. S. Ogilvie. 


New York : 

J. S. OGILVIE, Publisher, 
57 Rose Street. 

















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THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


CHAPTER I. 

A RISKY BUSINESS. 

1 1 So, my boy, you are in love ? And you think you have 
secured the best little woman living? I sincerely hope so for 
your own sake, for a man’s future depends very much on the 
woman he marries. It is a risky business to say the least.” 

And as Dr. Wayne spoke he laid his hand tenderly on his 
young friend’s shoulder, but there was a sad light in his eye, 
and he looked even more dejected than usual. 

This was certainly the first intimation that Edward Hawley 
had received that the doctor’s married life was not as harmon- 
ious as it should have been — for in what other way could he 
have construed his friend’s utterances ? 

Personally, Dr. Wayne might have been called handsome. 
It is true, he was slightly humpbacked, which deformity was 
not so much noticed perhaps by strangers as felt by himself. 
In this respect he was abnormally sensitive, being under the 
impression at times that he was either pitied or scorned for his 
affliction ; and both feelings were extremely irritating to one 
of his keen sensibilities and cultured mind. 

His features were massive and regular, with kindly gray 
eyes shining out from beneath clearly-marked brows ; his 
mustache and hair were of a dark brown, silken and glossy 
to a degree ; and although not over thirty- five years, there were 
lines of suffering on his brow and about his mouth which made 
him look many years older. 


( 3 ) 


4 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


In fact Dr. Wayne had suffered and had suffered in silence; 
his married life had been unhappy, but his natural reticence 
had concealed this from even his most intimate friends. 

“My dear doctor,” returned Edward earnestly, “ I thank 
you a thousand times for your deep interest in my welfare, and 
I know you mean what you have said for my good ; but indeed 
if you knew Agnes you would not think it necessary to feel the 
slightest anxiety as to my future. She is so far above others 
of her sex in every particular — so sweet, so good. In fact,” 
he added with ardent pride, “she is the dearest little woman 
in the world.” 

Dr. Wayne smiled pityingly at his friend’s enthusiasm. He 
remembered how he too had thought thus of his wife some 
ten years before, yet his life with her had been a miserable 
disappointment. And now, he fancied he saw a similar ex- 
perience mapped out for his friend. Edward was but twenty- 
five — the same age at which he had fallen in love. He did 
not consider that the woman Edward loved might be utterly 
different to his wife, or that the style of woman he detested, 
his friend might admire. He saw only that the young man 
was on the verge of doing an act which might mar his whole 
life, and with the impulse of his strong sympathy he longed to 
save him. Accordingly he said : 

“Edward, life is poor indeed to a loving nature without a 
woman’s affection; it is bare and empty. But there' is some- 
thing worse — a wife who does not love or understand you; 
who may be intelligent, but unsuited to you, tender to others, 
but heartless to her husband, perhaps only because she cannot 
love him. Love is terrible as well as sublime; it cannot be 
forced and a man is only a child in experience concerning 
married life if he has never been married. It is surprising 
the world is as good as it is, when one considers how 
ill-mated so many people are. Were you to marry this 
girl whom you say you love, you might lead a happy life 
together, but, your choice would be the one in a hundred, or 


the midnight elopement. 


S 


more likely one in a thousand that would so result. Now let 
me advise you in this matter. You are young, and I suppose 
she is too ’’ 

“ She is eighteen." 

“ Very well; then I would advise you to wait four or five 
years longer before you think of marrying. See more of the 
young lady ; analyze her mind, and see if you are adapted to 
each other. At your age, it is hard to judge as to whether 
one will be happy through life in the companionship of a 
woman one has known but a short time. Many a man, Ed- 
ward, has wished he had the experience at twenty-five that 
he must attain probably at thirty or thirty-five. Why ? 
Because he would then have acted differently. And in how 
many, many cases does this mean — the choice of his life 
mate ! ’’ 

Wayne ground out the last words with much bitterness ; 
but to Hawley, his tone meant only that he wished to impress 
him with th$ importance of his advice. 

“ Doctor," he began, after a moment’s hesitation, his voice 
thrilling with a sincere belief in what he uttered : “ there 
could not be a more perfect little woman in existence, or one 
more thoroughly adapted to me than Agnes. Now, won’t you 
give me your best wishes ? " 

As he ceased speaking, the young man extended his hand 
which Wayne took in a friendly grasp. 

“ Well, well, Edward, I hope you will be happy ! But I 
fear you only see what is good in the young woman. She may 
be sweet-tempered and beautiful and all that, but are you sure 
she will be a fit companion for your manhood — that she will 
be the sharer of your cares, the confidant of your hopes and 
ambitions, the helpmate and comforter of your sterner years ? 
Are you sure she will always be as charming as she is now to 
you, or as she might be in the first few years of wedded life 
when cares are few ? ’ ’ 

“ I question if I have ever considered what you have just 


6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


alluded to, but I am quite sure Agnes Bonnard would meet 
every one of those requirements. At any rate, I shall risk it, 
trusting that my marriage to her will result happily.” 

Edward spoke earnestly and seemed unable just then to re- 
lease the doctor’s hand which he still held. 

“Am I disturbing you in a rehearsal of handshaking ? ” 
questioned a blithe voice at this moment. 

The hands of both men instinctively fell apart as they 
started and glanced at the speaker. 

She stood in the doorway of the room ; her tall, queenly 
form, in its snug-fitting, dark blue gown, revealed every out- 
line of her perfect figure. The light of the lamp fell full upon 
a face you would unhesitatingly have pronounced lovely. The 
blue eyes were large and lustrous ; the parted, smiling lips re- 
vealed pearl-like teeth, the skin was as daintily tinted as a 
child’s, and the rich, nut-brown hair, piled upon her head, 
was soft as silk. 

Mrs. Wayne, at thirty-two, was as charming and beautiful 
a woman as you could well meet. 

The doctor looked indifferently at his wife, then walked to 
the bookcas(T and soon became absorbed in the pages of a vol- 
ume of poetry, while Hawley advanced to meet his fair hostess. 

A moment’s silence followed as she seated herself, then 
looking up, and smiling she said to the young man : 

11 Will you not admit me into the secret of your handshak- 
ing a few moments ago ? ” 

“ I was merely saying I hoped my married life, when I do 
marry, will result as happily — as the doctor’s,” Hawley said 
somewhat hesitatingly. 

“ You seem to have a notion then of marrying? ” 

“ I had no such idea until very recently,” said Hawley, an 
embarrassed flush mounting his temples, “ but now — ” 

“ Well, well, I hope the young lady is worthy of you, Mr. 
Hawley ; and I’m sure, I wish you every happiness,” inter- 
rupted Mrs. Wayne with a gracious smile. 


7 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

“She is indeed — more than worthy of me; but the doctor 
seems to think I ought to wait a few years before taking a 
wife.” 

“ And I repeat it ! You ought to wait at least five years, Ed- 
ward,” said Dr. Wayne sharply, glancing up from his book. 
“ A young man of your age is likely to fancy a pretty face, 
and rush impetuously into matrimony : five or ten years later 
he may have cause to regret it. So, my boy, take care ! ” 

“ But you married at twenty-five,” interrupted Mrs. Wayne, 
acridly. 

“ Quite true,” was the doctor’s cold reply. 

“Perhaps you regret having married so young? ” she ques- 
tioned in a mocking tone. 

It is in tormenting moments like these that our natures are 
roused to assert themselves. A flush reddened Dr. Wayne’s 
cheeks ; his eyes flashed with anger. He forgot the presence 
of Edward Hawley under the influence of his passion. The 
grosser side of his nature was spurred into terrible action. 
The words his wife had spoken had struck deeper into his 
heart, than had she driven a knife into it. Hot, stormy words 
which had lain dormant in his spirit, struggling for utterance 
for many a year, arose to his lips. 

But just as he was about to give voice to them, a knock at 
the room door interrupted him. A moment later, in answer 
to Mrs. Wayne’s “ Come in,” the door opened, and a maid- 
servant appeared and said, looking at Wayne : 

“ If you please, sir, there’s a gentleman who would like to 
see you.” 

With a muttered apology, the doctor followed her from the 
room. 

Edward Hawley, who had been an unwilling witness to this 
scene, breathed a sigh of relief as Wayne disappeared, thus 
avoiding what would no doubt have ended in a serious quar- 
rel. 

Mrs. Wayne, too, looked relieved and seemed ashamed of 


8 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


the pique she had shown before her visitor. At least, those 
were the feelings for which Hawley gave her credit ; but, per- 
haps, her heart had been touched with the feeling that it was 
she who was responsible for the unhappiness which existed be- 
tween herself and her husband. 

The doctor, when he had closed the door, leaned heavily 
against the panelled wall of the hall ; his face was now white 
with disappointed rage. He was balked when he had thirsted 
years to say what he could have said so well then / 

Her utter lack of sympathy, her insults, her selfishness, her 
want of respect, and indeed every harsh word she had ever 
spoken, all returned to his mind in that moment and stung 
with cruel force his aching heart. But, bitterest of all was 
the knowledge that her nature was not naturally thus — that be- 
neath that cold, unfeeling exterior which she maintained to- 
ward him, there beat a heart of remarkable passion and sym- 
pathy ; also, an acute intellect, though it had never been in 
intercourse with his own inner thoughts. But why she should 
act thus toward him — whose pleasure and happiness it had 
been to do all in his power for her, was what he could not un- 
derstand. Even considering that she did not love him, was it 
not her duty to respect him as her husband, showing that she 
had at least appreciated his love and kindness ! 

He had tried, many a time, to discover why she treated him 
thus, and finding no answer to his many reasonings, had come 
to the conclusion in his pain and sensitiveness, that she hated 
and was ashamed of him because of his affliction. 

And how he had at one time loved this woman ! He 
moaned in anguish as he thought of the tender passion he had 
lavished on her and then compared it with his feelings for her 
now. But, alas ! sweet happy memories, they fade before the 
towering reality of the present ! 

He is again an insulted, outraged man, and it is with alow, 
but bitterly spoken execration that he finally moves down the 
hall toward his office. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


9 


Having entered the room, he threw himself into a chair and 
stared gloomily ahead. He was in no mood just then to re- 
ceive visitors and listen to the sad tales they had to tell ; his 
heart was scarred too deeply for that. 

How often before in this same room, he had laid bare his 
heart ! Its quiet seclusion had been dearer to him than the 
friendship of human beings. Here, for ten years had he spent 
the greater part of each day ! 

A soft, thick, and cheerful-looking carpet covered the floor ; 
the walls were painted a delicate pearl-gray ; the furniture of 
carved oak, was upholstered in dark green leather ; a few rare 
engravings adorned the walls, while books seemed to meet the 
eye everywhere ; they were strewn on the table and desk and 
crowded into the bookcase. 

The bright fire in the old-fashioned grate too, gave the 
room a still more cosy and pleasant look, especially so in con- 
trast to the wretched weather outside, where a wild wind blew 
the rain clamorously against the window. 

But the doctor failed to appreciate the comfort of the apart- 
ment on this night, and no wonder ! for, oh ! what terrible 
anguish it is to feel one’s self bound by the ties of duty and 
honor to live out an unhappy existence. Like a caged bird 
he longed to flee from his fettered bonds. 

Many, many times, when heartaches like the present had 
assailed him, he had cried in agony and bitterness : “I am ac- 
cursed ! ” 

Wealth to some is a blessing ; to him it had been a curse ! 
He knew it had brought him into the pitiable condition of 
being wedded to one with whom he had not the slightest affin- 
ity of thought or feeling. He, whose nature demanded love 
and sympathy, had only cold indifference from one who should 
have been, his “star of light.” 

While thus dismally cogitating, he had failed to hear a 
light, hesitating tap at the room-door, which the pelting rain 
at the window had helped to drown. He looked up, however, 


10 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


with a gesture of annoyance as the door opened, and the serv- 
ant entering said : 

“The gentleman, sir, says you must have forgotten him as 
he has been waiting a very long time.” 

“ Ah, yes,” said the doctor, rising, “ I will see him at once.” 

CHAPTER II. 

THE DOCTOR’S VISITOR. 

The church-bells of Brooklyn were ringing for service as 
Louis Bonnard sprang from a street car into the pouring rain 
and moaning wind of that wild March night. 

The raindrops on the windows of the lighted shops, looked 
like sparkling gems ; but neither their dazzling radiance, nor 
the reflection of the lights in the pools of water, which at 
other times he observed as a pretty sight, attracted his notice. 

Mr. Bonnard was in a" hurry; and that meant with him 
keeping clear of everybody, without observing anything with 
interest, and walking as rapidly as possible. 

He was a tall, strongly-built and attractive looking man. 
His olive-pale complexion and hair and eyes of jet well suited 
the noble type of his features. The laughing eyes seemed to 
tell of a happy spirit, and yet, as you observed closer you 
could detect a lurking bitterness in their expression. Alto- 
gether, Mr. Bonnard was an extraordinary looking man, and 
even the passers-by in the street seemed to think so, for many 
turned and looked after him. 

As he hurried along, with bent head and hands deep in his 
coat pockets, he mused : 

“I wonder if Edward Hawley has spoken to his friend, 
Dr. Wayne, about father. I hope so, for I don’t like the idea 
of seeing him without an introduction.” 

Presently, as he turned into Schermerhorn Street, he drew 
up, and began to look about him. A row of elegant brown- 
stone mansions loomed up on either side of the street. He 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


II 


Walked along, slowly counting the numbers, and finally paused 
before one which seemed to be the handsomest of all. 

He sprang up the stoop, and to assure himself that it was the 
house he sought, he stooped and examined the name on the 
door-plate. “Dr. Wayne,” stood out in bold relief against 
the darkness of the door. 

His hand was on the bell ; but before he could pull it, there 
suddenly swelled out on the night air, a woman’s rich, alto 
voice, accompanied by the sound of a piano, in the following 
words : 

“ If I could know that after all 
These heavy bonds have ceased to thrall, 

We whom in life the fates divide 
Should sweetly slumber side by side — 

That one green spray would drop its dew 
Softly alike above us two, 

All would be well ; for I should be 
At last, dear loving heart, with thee ! ” 

A deep spasm of pain shot through Bonnard’s heart ; he 
leaned over the railing of the stoop, and peered cautiously 
through the half-closed blinds, into the dimly lit room from 
whence the singing came. 

He saw seated at the piano a beautifully formed woman, but 
he could not see her face. 

It was not the sad yearning of the song that had thrilled his 
heart with a bitter-sweet pain ; but the voice — Merciful God ! 
how terribly like it was to the voice of one he had loved over 
ten years ago. 

The voice, full of tears and sad yearning went on : 

“ How sweet to know this dust of ours, 

Mingling, will feed the self-same flowers — 

The scent of leaves, the song-birds tone, 

At once across our rest be blown. 

One breadth of sun, one sheet of rain 
Make green the earth above us twain ! 

Ah ! sweet and strange, for I should be, 

At last, dear tender heart, with thee ! 


12 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


“ But half the earth may intervene 
Thy place of rest and mine between — 

And leagues of land and wastes of waves 
May stretch and toss between our graves. 

Thy bed with Summer light be warm, 

While snowdrifts heap, in wind and storm, 

My pillow, whose one thorn will be, 

Beloved, that I am not with thee ! ” 

With a wail of utter heart break she ceased singing ; her 
head sank forward upon the keys of the piano ; her form was 
convulsed with sobs. 

For some minutes she remained thus, then suddenly threw 
up her head, dashed the tears from her eyes, uttered a wild, 
mocking laugh, and left the room. 

Bonnard drew back from the window with a heavy sigh ; he 
felt as though he had awakened from a dream. 

“ That was Mrs. Wayne,” he concluded as he rang the bell. 

Five minutes passed yet no one had answered his ring. He 
touched the bell again, impatiently ; this time after what ap- 
peared to be another five minutes the door was opened by a 
servant. 

“ Is the doctor within ? ” inquired Bonnard. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Can I see him? ” 

The girl replied in the affirmative. She led him along the 
hall ; and as he passed one door he heard voices raised in 
scornful discussion. The servant finally threw open the door 
of a room to his left, and requested him to wait there while 
she apprised the doctor. 

The first and most natural thing, Mr. Bonnard did after he 
had taken a seat, was to look about him. But after awhile as 
the doctor failed to summon him to the office and the objects 
of the room began to lose their interest, his thoughts drifted to 
other things. 

That voice ! How strangely familiar it was, and what 
thoughts it conjured up ! 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


13 


Back through the vista of ten long years his memory passed. 

He sees himself again as a young fellow of three- and-twenty, 
and remembers with a keen pang of bitterness one certain 
evening of those former times. 

It was the last day in August. The sun, from where he 
watched it as he stood in the shaded path, with the woman he 
loved beside him, looked like an immense golden ball as it 
began to sink behind the distant mountains and bathe the sky 
in a tranquil, yellowish light. The sound of the cow bells 
came faintly from the' meadows. Even the little sparrow 
flying from branch to branch in the tree above them, and the 
cooling breeze that fanned their faces, was remembered ; so 
vividly was every occurrence of this night impressed upon his 
mind. 

And the woman beside him ! He saw her again now, as 
she appeared then ; her tall, graceful form looking taller and 
more graceful still in its simple, white muslin gown, with the 
pale pink rosebuds twined in her luxuriant, nut-brown hair, 
and nestling on her breast. The lovely face was blushing, and 
the eyes gleamed with a half sad, half tender light. 

He remembered, too, the wild thrill of pain that shot 
through his heart, as he thought that on the morrow he must 
leave this pleasant country place, where he had spent so many 
happy weeks with her. 

He had moved a step nearer to her at this point, had taken 
her hand, and his voice was soft and low as he uttered her 
name: “ Harriet.’ ’ 

Her blushing face grew a deeper crimson, her eyelids 
drooped, and her voice faltered as she answered him. 

“ I leave here to-morrow,” he said, watching the effect of 
his words. 

“So soon ! ” she exclaimed, her lips quivering. 

“I have delayed my going already longer than 1 should 
have done. Will you think sometimes of the hours we have 
spent together when I am gone? ” 


14 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“ Yes, I shall think of them, Mr. Bonnard.” 

“ And of me ? ” 

“ I could not possibly think of them unless I thought of you, 
too,” she returned, and her eyes met his in a glance that 
made his heart beat rapidly. 

“ Harriet, are you sorry I must go away ? ” he asked clasp- 
ing her hands and gazing searchingly into her downcast face. 

She shrank from him, and covered her eyes with her hands. 

He drew nearer, his face flushing with hope ; he stole his 
arm with gentle force about her waist and drew her close to 
him. 

“ You love me, Harriet,” he boldly asserted. 

She only moaned in answer. 

“ My darling, won’t you answer me? ” continued Bonnard, 
passionately. “ Won’t you tell me that you love me, and that 
at some future day you will make me happy by becoming my 
wife?” 

She was a long time in answering, but at length faltered : 

“ I love you ! ” 

“ You are sure of it, dearest? You see,” he added with a 
bright smile, “ this is an important matter, and I must be ex- 
acting.” 

“ Ah, you need not doubt me; I love you only too well.” 

Her reply evidently pleased him, for he said nothing further 
on the subject ; nevertheless it was not the binding vow he had 
sought. But he had gone away confident that she would some 
day become his wife. 

A year later when he returned to claim her, she was gone — 
married to a man of wealth. 

At the time he never thought of asking his rival’s name, nor 
had he ever learned it since. Indeed, he had no desire to 
know it, for he never wanted to see again the woman who had 
so shamefully deceived him. 

“ She was unworthy of my love ! ” he had cried in his an- 
guish. “ I shall learn to forget her ! ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 1 5 

But he was not a man to easily forget anything. His love 
for her now, ten years later, was as intense as it ever had been. 

Suddenly, Mr. Bonnard’s thoughts were brought back to the 
present, by the opening of the room-door. The servant ushered 
in an elderly lady ; and at the same time, Mr. Bonnard be- 
came aware that he had been waiting over half an hour to in- 
terview the doctor, and his patience was getting exhausted. 

He asked the girl to see him and state that he feared he had 
been forgotten as he had been waiting a long time. 

A few minutes later, Bonnard stood in the presence of the 
doctor, but neither of them even dreamed of how strangely in- 
terwoven their lives were to become. 

“ Dr. Wayne ? ” questioned Mr. Bonnard, as he closed the 
office door. 

The doctor bowed. 

“I have called,” his visitor continued, producing his card, 
“ in regard to my father.” 

“Mr. Louis Bonnard ” 

The doctor read the name on the card slowly and aloud ; 
then hastily pushing forward a chair, he kindly said : 

“Pray, be seated, Mr. Bonnard. Our mutual friend, Mr. 
Hawley, has explained your father’s case to me. From what 
he has told me, I fear it is very bad ; but, of course, I cannot 
say so positively until I have seen my patient. You under- 
stand that this is merely conjecture as yet,” Wayne gently 
added. 

The young man raised his eyes and looked into the doctor’s 
face ; the sympathy he read there touched him profoundly. 
Some moments passed in silence, then he falteringly said : 

“Doctor, I deeply appreciate your sympathy, but lam 
aware it is all true. It is hard though to know that I must lose 
one for whom I have so tender a love. You will, however, 
come and see my poor father to-morrow, and do what you can 
to relieve his sufferings ? ” 

“Very well, Mr. Bonnard; I will call in the morning.” 


i6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Then Wayne added somewhat impulsively: “ Your friend, 
Mr. Hawley, is in the house; if you desire to see him, I should 
be delighted to have you remain? ” 

“ No, no, thank you,” said Bonnard, and hastily picking up 
his hat, he arose to leave. 

The doctor walked with him to the hall door, and for a few 
moments stood in the doorway looking after him ; then, as he 
was about to shut the door, a voice from the pavement hailed 
him. 

“ Hold on a moment, doctor, don’t close the door,” and a 
moment later, a flashily-dressed, bold looking man, sprang up 
the stoop. 

Dr. Wayne detested familiarity, more especially in those 
whom he disliked, and this one happened to be classed in that 
category. 

“ Good evening, Mr. Moore,” he coldly replied, without 
accepting the other’s proffered hand. 

A baleful light flashed into Moore’s eyes,. but was instantly 
suppressed, and he laughingly said : 

“Well, I don’t know about its being a ‘ good evening,’ 
doctor ; I am rather inclined to think it a bad one — and a very 
bad one at that. Ht is so long since I paid my respects to Mrs. 
Wayne,” pursued Moore, “ that I thought I would do so this 
evening.” 

“You will find her here, I believe,” said Wayne, throwing 
open the door of the room, where he had left his wife and 
Hawley together. 

“Are you not going to join us?” Moore asked, as the 
doctor retreated toward his office. 

“This is one of my business hours,” Wayne coldly 
answered and walked on ; he had gone only a few steps, how- 
ever, when he heard his wife greeting the newcomer in a tone 
of evident pleasure. 

The doctor ground his teeth savagely, and his hands 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


17 

clenched with the fierce passion that for a moment mastered 
him. 

Meantime, Mrs. Wayne, Hawley, and Moore were holding 
an animated conversation. Mr. Moore was relating how he 
had secured a good position in an excellent dramatic com- 
pany, which would take him from Brooklyn for a few months. 

11 It will be my first experience as a professional,” he con- 
cluded, “but I don’t in the least doubt but what I shall get 
along all right.” 

Conrad Moore was a young man of good social standing, 
but poor. Therefore, believing the dramatic profession to be 
the easiest and withal the most profitable way to make his 
living, he had resolved to become an actor. Hawley already 
had a reputation in the same profession. 

“Iam sure I hope you will succeed, but how lonely it will be 
when you have both gone : for Mr. Hawley intends going away 
too.” And Mrs. Wayne sighed, and looked languidly at the 
young men. 

“Ah, madam, you make us think our society a great bless- 
ing. What happiness to be always near you,” flatteringly 
said Moore, gazing at her with an expression of admiration. 

Her face beamed with pleasure as she turned to him, but she 
became somewhat embarrassed when she noticed the surprised 
and grieved expression of Hawley’s face. She knew in an 
instant that he did not think as highly of her as he had done. 

Why is it that a mere expression or a few words will some- 
times change our opinion of others. The face retains its 
expression, the voice remains the same, but somehow, the 
charm we once found in them has gone — simply because we 
have caught a glimpse of the inner individualty we dislike. It 
is almost unjust to become prejudiced against anyone for so 
small a cause — still, the impression remains. It was thus with 
Hawley’s opinion of Mrs. Wayne. All in a moment, blind as 
he had been to the fact before, he saw and understood the 
cause of Dr. Wayne’s unhappiness. 

2 


i8 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


Hitherto he had greatly admired her, had even thought that 
the doctor was unnecessarily cold to her at times, but he now 
began to realize that the heart of this woman, who dazzled 
everyone with her beauty and charming manner, craved the 
admiration of a multitude and cared less for her husband’s 
opinion than she did that of a stranger. 

Bitter indeed was this discovery, for no matter how little we 
may think of people, we never like to find out that they are 
worse than we knew them to be, unless indeed they are our 
enemies or we are envious. 

The frivolous conversation that followed between Mrs. 
Wayne and Moore, made Hawley so disappointed in regard to 
the former and so disgusted with the latter, that he very soon 
arose to take his leave. Moore did likewise. 

When the two young men were in the street, they walked on 
some time in silence, then Moore spoke remarking upon the 
beauty of the night — for the storm had ceased, and the moon 
as it rose pale and luminous above the house-tops opposite, 
shone through fleecy white clouds, much in the manner that a 
bright eye might gleam through a gauzy veil. 

“The night be hanged! ” savagely replied Hawley. “I 
tell you, Moore, it’s an outrage the way things are going on at 
the doctor’s. By jove, if I were in his place things should be 
different ! ” 

“ How very honorable you are getting,” sneered Moore. 

Hawley replied : 

“If you were as honorable, you would cease visiting there.” 

“ Indeed ? And how about yourself, my friend ? ” 

“ There is quite a difference between us in this case, Moore. 
It is true that I admire Mrs. Wayne, but I do not go there to 
make love to her. She is my friend’s wife ! ” indignantly 
replied the young man. 

“ Well, I know Wayne hates me, but nevertheless, I don’t 
mean to discontinue visiting a person who is always glad to see 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


19 

me, and whom it gives me pleasure to see. Do you under- 
stand that ? ” 

“Yes, I think I do,” Hawley answered, with a contempt- 
uous glance at Moore, which only brought a smile to his 
face. 

And thus they parted. 

CHAPTER III. 

A LITTLE COMFORTER. 

Number — Willow Street, the address that Louis Bonnard had 
given Dr. Wayne, was a two story and basement frame house, 
painted white with green shutters, standing about twenty feet 
back from the iron railing which separated the grass plot from 
the pavement : and when, the following morning,' Dr. Wayne 
had alighted from his carriage and walked up the general path 
leading to the house, he saw a plate on the door inscribed : 

“ Professor Bonnard & Son, 

Instructors in 

Physical Culture.” 

Soon after he had rang the bell, the door was opened by a 
young lady who resembled Louis Bonnard so much, that the 
doctor concluded she was his sister. And he was right. He 
looked at her with unusual interest — partly, because she was 
the girl Edward Hawley loved, and partly, too, because her 
face was singularly striking. It was serious, cultured, and 
brightly intellectual. Wayne was so favorably impressed, that 
he found it a very easy matter to admit that Edward’s choice 
was decidedly good. 

“ You are Dr. Wayne,” she quietly said — and as he 
replied in the affirmative, she led the way to her father’s 
room. 

The apartment was warm, but filled with sweet, fresh air, 


20 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


and the sun shining through the faded orange curtains flooded 
it with a golden light. The patient lay in bed asleep when his 
daughter and Dr. Wayne entered the room. He was a hand- 
some man of about sixty, of whom his son was th$ living 
counterpart, excepting that the professor had thick, snow- 
white locks, while Louis’s hair was jet black. 

Dr. Wayne conversed in a low tone with Miss Bonnard for 
some moments, then asked to be shown the medicine pre- 
scribed. Having examined it, Wayne felt his patient’s pulse ; 
the touch of his hand awakened the sick man, who stared at 
him with a surprised and somewhat bewildered look, where- 
upon the doctor smiled reassuringly. 

“ Do not be frightened, father,” came the gentle voice of 
his daughter, as she laid her delicately-moulded hand on his 
forehead. “This gentleman is Dr. Wayne.” 

Somehow, Wayne greatly envied his patient as he saw the 
young girl leaning over him — a sad, sweet smile lighting up 
her face. 

“My dear sir,” said Wayne gently, “how do you feel 
now? ” 

The heavy eyelids of the sick man closed again as though 
it cost him an effort to keep them open, but in a few moments 
he falteringly said : 

“ That fall will be my death.” 

“ Yes > he fell while performing,” explained Miss Bonnard, 
tremulously. 

The tone of settled conviction in which the patient had 
spoken awoke profound sympathy in Dr. Wayne’s breast. 
After a few moments he said : 

“Do not be discouraged, my dear sir. Remember, hope 
means life.” 

Ah, I wish I could hope,” the old man brokenly re- 
sponded. “If but for Agnes’s sake! My little Agnes!” 
he whispered huskily, patting his daughter’s cheek tenderly, 
“ My little comforter ! ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


21 


A pang shot through Wayne’s heart. This man was poor 
and aged, and he, himself, was young and wealthy, yet he 
had no “ comforter.” 

The moisture in the doctor’s eyes almost prevented him 
seeing what he wrote as he prescribed. Then, bowing gravely, 
he silently withdrew from the room, followed by Agnes. 

“Doctor,” she said, laying her hand on his arm with a 
nervous tremor, “tell me the truth. Will my father re- 
cover ? ” 

“ He is very, very ill, but I hope and trust he will.” 

This was said with an averted look. 

She gazed searchingly. at him for an instant with tear- 
dimmed eyes. 

“ Tell me the truth,” she pleaded. 

“Well then, my poor little girl,” he sadly answered, lay- 
ing his hand on her head and speaking as though he addressed 
a child, “since you really insist knowing the truth, I admit 
— he is beyond hope.” 

Agnes’s face grew colorless, a dazed look came into her 
eyes, and a sudden faintness almost overpowered her. 

“Steady, steady, my child! there, don’t give way so! ” 
cried the doctor grasping her arm. 

His voice recalled the young woman to her senses, but the 
pallor did not leave her face. 

“ How long?” she asked, passing her hand nervously over 
her forehead. 

He understood what she wished to be told. 

“I am afraid he will not last till midnight.” 

“So soon? ” she gasped, gazing with an awe-stricken ex- 
pression at the door of the room where her father lay. 

“ I should not have told you,” he said, angry with himself 
for having been so frank. 

“On the contrary, you did right in telling me.” 

“I am not so sure of that,” said Wayne, smiling as he 
clasped her soft, white hand. “ And now,” he added, “ you 


f 22 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


will oblige me greatly if you will promise not to worry, and 
remember that His way is best.” 

And so saying, Dr. Wayne walked to his carriage with a 
wild sensation of pleasure throbbing at his heart, such as he 
had not experienced in years. 

****** 

Night was drawing nigh. In the faint twilight, Agnes sat 
watching by her father’s dying bed. Her heart beat tumultu- 
ously as she gazed into his face, for she feared every moment, 
that his spirit would leave him. Already she felt the damp- 
ness of death on his brow. His breath came in short, hard 
gasps. 

“Agnes,” suddenly whispered the old man almost in- 
audibly as she bent over him. 

“Yes, father ? ” 

“Where’s Louis ! ” 

“He has gone for the doctor, dear,” she replied, sooth- 
ingly. 

“Ah, there was no need; the doctor can do nothing more 
for me, my child. Don’t cry, Aggie, dear! ” he agitatedly 
said, caressing his daughters’ face as it drooped against his own, 
and her hot tears fell on his cheek. “ Ah, you don’t act like 
my brave, little comforter to-night, Aggie. Come, dry your 
tears, my darling, and give me your attention while I speak. 
Oh, Aggie, Aggie, it’s for the last time, dear, and it is so short 
— so short ! ” 

The dying man’s voice was full of agony. It pierced 
Agnes’s heart with grief; but bravely lifting her head, she 
calmed herself and waited for him to continue. Presently he 
began : 

“Aggie, my daughter, put your head on the pillow beside 
me, so I can see you, and your arms around my neck. Ah, 
Heaven, how blessed you have made my life ! When I com- 
pare you and Louis with the children of others, how happy a 
man I feel myself ! And yet — there is one thing that slightly 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


23 


mars my peace of mind, my dear, little one; and that is — the 
knowledge that I must leave you without knowing what your 
future will be.” 

He paused to regain strength, for the effort almost exhausted 
him. After giving him a stimulant, Agnes softly interro- 
gated : 

“ You refer to my marrying, father? ” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“ Edward loves me, father.” 

“True; but, Agnes, do you love him? Don’t deceive 
yourself, child ; don’t deliberately close your eyes to the truth, 
and say you do without due consideration. Edward Hawley 
is a very good young man, but he is not suited to you.” 

“ But, father — father, you do not understand ! ” Agnes in- 
terrupted earnestly. “ I love Edward ; indeed I do father.” 

“ Now — yes, my pet ; I do not doubt it. I was young my- 
self, and every fair face had its charms and made me fancy 
myself in love at least twenty times in as many days. But, 
there is a master passion which makes our lives either a para- 
dise or a perdition. But now, Agnes, we will not discuss that 
subject, but proceed to one of far more importance.” 

“Yes, father?” 

“ My daughter,” he continued, “ you have often heard me 
say that I admire a man or woman who upholds virtue more 
than anything else in the whole world ; for, child, this quality 
is often dearly purchased ; there are many fierce temptations 
to be struggled against, which if they were indulged in might 
often bring us a mere transitory happiness, but, at the same 
time, mark well what I say — cost us all that is honorable and 
pure.” 

Long afterwards those words were deeply remembered — 
remembered with a shudder of pain as she realized the 
solemnnity of their import ! 

Just then, however, k $he only listened to them with the sad- 
ness that all must feel when they know that a very dear rela- 


M 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


tive is dying. The words held no meaning to her innocent, 
young heart ; besides, she did not believe it possible that she 
could ever commit any wrong that she would so bitterly re- 
gret. 

Ah, what a great blessing it sometimes is, that the future is 
hidden from us. 

A deep silence followed the words, but when he again spoke 
his voice was calm, and yet full of the' sadness of his reflec- 
tions. 

“ Aggie,” he began, “ you will often miss your 'poor old 
father,’ whose chief joy was to comfort you in all your troubles, 
and bear them for you when he could. So I want you to re- 
member my last words.” Here his eyes seemed to be gazing 
at a distant object, and he spoke as though in a spirit of 
prophecy : “ They will soothe many a heartache you will 

suffer in the future. Yes, you will suffer; passionate natures 
like yours always suffer, and often you will long for death to 
release your over-burdened heart. But I want you to promise 
me that you will always do what is right.” 

A shudder of superstitious terror rushed through Agnes’s 
heart as her father ceased speaking, and prevented her from 
noticing for a moment that his hands had suddenly grown cold 
and clammy, as she clasped them wildly in her own. 

“ Aggie,” he entreated, his voice faint and broken now, “ I 
want you to promise that you will always uphold your honor ! 

It is the most scared and beautiful crown to wear ! Promise 

my daughter ! ” 

“ Oh, father — my father ! I will indeed ! ” she cried with a 
heart-broken sob. 

There was silence for a few minutes, then, with a tender 
smile, he softly said : 

“ Kiss me — my sweet comforter ! ” 

In the kiss that she pressed on hisjwhitened lips was ex- 
pressed all the devotion of her loving heart. 

His fingers twitched ; his faint breathing ceased in one last, 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


25 


gasping sigh that released his feeble hold to life. His counte- 
nance shone with the grand reflection of the consecrated light 
and joy of a new and beautiful life. And with a. heart almost 
bursting with grief, Agnes threw herself beside the bed. 

Later, when her brother returned with Dr. Wayne, they 
found her lying on the floor in a high fever, tossing her head 
from side to side, and pitifully moaning in anguish. 


CHAHTER IV. 

THE DOCTOR’S INTEREST IN AGNES. 

Long and weary weeks followed Agnes’s illness. Weeks of 
suffering to the poor girl ; weeks of anxiety to the friends about 
her, as they watched the fierce struggle between life and death. 
All were assiduous in their attentions. Her brother would 
often leave his pupils to inquire how she was, and Edward 
Hawley brought a huge bouquet every day of her favorite 
flowers, and kissed her burning lips in all the wild abandon of 
his love and sorrow, conjuring her by every endearing name 
to speak to him, to live for him ! 

Alas, poor fellow ! never again would she be so wholly his, 
as when his kisses fell unheeded on her lips, and her eyes 
failed to recognize him ! 

Upon Dr. Wayne and Edward Hawley’s mother devolved 
the principal work ; the doctor’s skill and advice and Mrs. 
Hawley’s careful nursing. 

Never had Dr. Wayne shown so profound an interest in any 
of his patients as in Agnes’s case. He called at the house 
three or four times a day when often it was unnecessary ; re- 
mained all night at times when he feared she was worse than 
usual ; and all this kindness he said was due to his friendship 
for Hawley and Louis Bonnard. But a keener observer than 
either of these sorrow-stricken friends would have seen that his 
face had grown pale in his dread of how her illness might end, 


2 6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


that his hand trembled when he touched her, and that he 
looked at her indeed, as though she were the very light of his 
life. 

But there came an end at last to all the anxious doubts in 
regard to her illness. One night, in the stillness of the small 
hours, Agnes awoke to a realization of her surroundings ; 
awoke, to find Dr. Wayne sitting by her bedside fast asleep, 
looking much paler than when she remembered last seeing him. 
She stretched out one thin, white hand and timidly pulled his 
coat sleeve. 

He started up ; hastily rubbed his eyes, then saw her with a 
sweet, gentle smile just dawning on her lips as their eyes met ; 
he caught he fluttering little hand in his and held it fast, and 
then a prayer of gratefulness wrung from his very soul, passed 
his lips : 

“ I thank God, little Aggie — you will get well ! ” 

“ I have been very ill, haven’t I?” she asked, holding up 
her arms and examining them. 

“ Very, very ill. So ill that we thought we were going to 
lose you.” 

She did not speak again'; but it was evident that her 
thoughts were wandering to sad remembrances, for her eyes filled 
with tears. 

“ Come, dear child,” said Wayne tenderly, raising her 
head, “ drink this; it will give you rest, and to-morrow you 
will be stronger.” 

He held a sleeping potion to her lips. 

No one saw how, when she had fallen asleep, Wayne 
pressed his lips passionately to her hands. A little later he 
passed from the room. 

Louis Bonnard and Edward Hawley were anxiously await- 
ing his appearance in the parlor. Both aaose as the doctor en- 
tered the room; their white, haggard faces told far more 
plainly than words of the heart-aching anxiety they had suf- 
fered. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


T 1 

u All is well ; she is sleeping quietly,” was the joyous assur- 
ance Dr. Wayne had given in answer to their appealing looks. 

How they grasped his hands at that moment ! how they 
clung to him, proclaiming that no one else could ever have ef- 
fected so miraculous a result ! 

They were very happy that night in a grave, quiet way ; 
and, when Dr. Wayne finally took his leave, Louis and 
Edward, for the first time during all the weary, anxious weeks 
of Agnes’s illness, enjoyed the sleep of happy contentment. 

Dr. Wayne strolled leisurely along the deserted streets in 
the direction of his home ; the echo of his footsteps was a 
pleasant accompaniment to his solitude, and roused a pleasant 
train of thought. 

“Yes,” he soliloquized, “I shall feel myself amply re- 
warded indeed, if, some day I may call her, my little com- 
forter ! Strange, that I should have taken such a liking to the 
child. But how could I resist the sweet spell of that honest, 
gentle face, and still gentler heart. God bless her ! She is a 
pearl amongst women, and Edward Hawley ought to be the 
happiest man in the city.” And then his tortured heart cried 
out : “ My God ! how happy I might have been with a wife 

like Agnes ! ” 

Surely there is no time so full of anguish, as when the heart 
cries out in a vain longing for the “ might have been.” For 
a man or woman to look back through a long vista of years 
with cherished remembrances of a dead husband or wife, be- 
lieving that were their dead alive they would be happier, is 
certainly a sad regret ; but to discover, as Wayne had done 
that his wife was unworthy, and that another woman com- 
manded his deepest admiration and respect is sadder still. 

Sometimes we read of a man forgiving all the harshness and 
disloyalty of a wife, and taking her to his heart again. This 
happens every day, but never when a man has learned to love 
some other woman, worthy of his affection, and who recipro- 
cates it. No ; though the wife were to weep tears of blood in 




THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


her repentance, never can she hope to fill the old place. Once 
love is gone, under such circumstances, it is gone forever ! 

The doctor had observed in the girl’s room a few days pre- 
viously, a number of books which he thought it impossible 
Agnes would read. They were books of information — medical 
and scientific works, history and fiction. When next he saw 
Louis, he questioned him as to whether such was the class of 
reading she was interested in. 

“ No,” was the reply given with a peculiar smile, “ at least, 
not at first. But it had always been the desire of my father 
that he should be her instructor in regard to her education. 
He believed in educating her for a struggle with the world ; 
for, as he often said, ‘ if young women were brought up with a 
knowledge of what they will have to contend with, the world 
would be richer, nobler, and more beautiful.’ The result of 
his belief is, that my sister has read and understood books 
which many a person older, and of far greater experience had 
never thought of reading. But, notwithstanding the fact that 
reading works of information, and understanding what she 
read, has given her a keener insight into human nature, it 
has certainly made her a woman long before she ought to have 
been one.” 

“ I think you are wrong in so judging,” Dr. Wayne had re- 
turned with considerable animation. “ I dare say your sister 
appreciates what she has learned far more than you give her 
credit for.” 

“ Oh, she always appreciated whatever my father told her. 
He was her idol.” 

“ How much better the world would indeed be, were there 
more like her — instead of the young women who seem to have 
no other object in life but to appear well before their friends,” 
argued the doctor, with a sigh. 

How brightly the stars shone in the clear, deep blue of the 
sky ! How, even the branches of the trees he passed waved 
gently in the breeze as though they wished to express their 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


29 


good wishes. At least, so it seemed to him. He was so 
wrapped in thought, that not until he stood in front of his 
home, was he aware that the house was ablaze with light. 
He sighed profoundly, but somehow, the pain that used to 
rankle in his heart at such a sight, did not trouble him now ; 
he felt indeed, as though it were impossible for anything to 
ever .annoy him again, as long as he had Agnes to occupy his 
thoughts. 

As noiselessly as possible, he opened the door with his latch- 
key ; his idea was to escape to his own apartments unobserved 
by the company his wife had invited ; but unfortunately the 
parlor door happened to be open when he entered the hall. 
Knowing it would be impossible to pass without being seen, 
Wayne stood watching the gay assemblage a few minutes. The 
men were all either handsome or brilliant, the women, young 
and fair. Mrs. Wayne was resplendent in a gown of rich, 
black velvet. She was relating how she had been saved from 
death one time when in danger of drowning, by the bravery 
of an unknown stranger who rescued her at the peril of his 
life. “ Ah,” she concluded with a sigh, “ he had such beau- 
tiful dark eyes ! ” 

And nearly all the men sighed too, and wished that it had 
been their luck to be the possessor of those “ beautiful dark 
eyes.” As for the women, /when they thought they were un- 
observed, how their eyes flashed with jealous rage. 

Dr. Wayne noticed all this from where he stood, and he 
smiled wearily. But, strangely enough, his heart did not burn 
with the wild jealousy that used to torture him when he saw 
his wife the centre of an admiring group. He was thinking 
that there was not one man in that room worthy of a liking 
such as he felt for Louis Bonnard ; not one woman there as 
gentle, as noble, as intellectual as Agnes ! 

That night Dr. Wayne displayed himself as a very brilliant 
conversationalist. This was unusual, and caused much sur- 
prise on the part of his guests. Even Mrs. Wayne noticed it, 


30 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


and her capricious heart was annoyed ; for not once, although 
she flirted outrageously, did the old look of jealousy come into 
his face. Instead, the more she tried to arouse his suspicion, 
the more he seemed to wax gay. His laugh was the merriest 
and the one oftenest heard ; and he talked continuously on 
the most amusing and interesting subjects, much to the enjoy- 
ment of his listeners. And when finally the visitors left, Mrs. 
Wayne thought : 

“ I wonder what has come over the doctor ? I never saw 
him look as he did to-night. With his eyes sparkling and his 
cheeks flushed, he was actually the handsomest man in the 
room.” 

And Dr. Wayne ? He felt as though the whole course of 
his life had changed, as indeed it had. The cold and dismal 
path he had believed he must always tread, had suddenly be- 
come warm, bright and glowing, and had thrilled his whole 
being with ardor and happiness at the change. Yes, although 
all the rest • of the world might look coldly on him, at least 
two noble creatures would generously give him their affection ! 

Ah, wondrous, wondrous indeed, is the change that affec- 
tion will bring to a suffering, hunger-loving heart ! It inspires 
us with nobler thoughts ; our souls open again to the grandeur 
of His glory and goodness, and we are comforted. 

When Dr. Wayne retired to his apartment, he seated him- 
self at the window of the room, and gazed out into the still- 
ness of the night. From where he sat, he could no longer see 
the moon — which was high in the heavens when he had come 
home — but a trail of white clouds, looking like foamy waves, 
extended across the sky, and was finally lost to sight in the 
blackness of other clouds. 

“ Dear little Agnes !” he mused ; “Oh, sweet comforter ! 
rightly named, your vision rises before me in all its gentleness 
— the slight figure, so quaker-like in its primness — the high, 
broad, intelligent brow, with the long, thick hair drawn 
smoothly away — the eyes, large and dark, that look so hon- 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


31 


estly at one — the small, but full lips that when parted in a 
smile send forth the breath of heaven in its sweetness and se- 
riousness My little guardian-angel, my comforter, 

my sister ! God bless and keep her for all time ! ” 

And with that fervent prayer on his lips, Dr. Wayne retired, 
only to live over in dreams his wakeful thoughts. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE WOMAN HATER. 

The following morning when Agnes awoke, the blue and 
white curtains in her apartment were drawn to exclude the 
bright sunlight. 

As no one was present, her eyes wandered over the objects 
in the room with a listless interest, which gradually deepened 
into a pleasanter train of thought. The walls were covered 
with a pretty paper of white background interlaced with a pat- 
tern of forget-me-nots and pink rosebuds. The mantel-piece, 
doors, and woodwork were paintedNvhite. The plain furni- 
ture was also painted white, but had numerous cushions in 
blue, light and dark, embroidered with pink rosebuds, that 
lent an ease and beauty to it that was very effective. The 
dark blue carpet had bunches of forget-me-nots scattered over 
it, and a long mirror with a white frame reflected herself lying 
on the glittering brass bedstead with its snowy sheets and pil- 
lows, looking pale and thin, and very unlike the Agnes of two 
months ago. 

She looked pensively at the reflection, but finally her gaze 
wandered to a little stand in a corner of the room, where a 
lovely bouquet sent forth a delicious fragrance. It is wonder- 
ful what pleasure the sight of flowers will impart to some na- 
tures. Agnes could scarcely resist the temptation of testing 
her strength by getting up to reach and bury her face in them ; 
but as she was too weak, she contented herself with feasting 


32 THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

her eyes and thinking of the one she knew had brought 
them. 

“ Dear Edward ! ” she thought, “ how very kind of him to 
bring me those beautiful flowers.” 

Suddenly, the door of the room opened, and as Agnes 
turned to see who was ther , a tall, thin-looking woman entered 
and came to the bedside. For a few seconds .she stood gazing 
at the invalid without speaking or betraying by any expression 
that she realized the girl had regained her senses. Agnes 
broke the silence. 

“ Mrs. Hawley,” she softly said, extending her hand. 

Had her life depended on it, the girl could not have uttered 
one word of endearment when speaking to this woman, and it 
was scarcely to be wondered at, for the world would find it 
hard indeed to present a more coldly forbidding person. Her 
features were sharply cut ; there was cruelty in the expression 
of the thin lips ; coldness in the eagle-like gray eyes. Alto- 
gether, it was a tragic face \ it could flame with indignation 
and fiendishness, but rarely with softer, gentler emotions. The 
gaunt, twitching fingers seemed. to be tingling with the desire 
to inflict torture. The only kind of dress she was known to 
wear, whether in winter or summer, in the presence of others 
or in the privacy of her own home, was made of stiff gray 
cloth, scanty in allowance of goods, which made her tall, thin 
figure, seem taller and thinner still, and impressed one with 
the belief that she was a relic of the old witches of former 
days. 

As Agnes extended her hand, Mrs. Hawley calmly felt her 
pulse, and muttered something about the fever being gone. 
Not one word of kindly greeting, or expression of happiness 
over the girl’s narrow escape, did she speak. 

This utter lack of feeling wounded Agnes’s sensitive heart 
and brought the tears to her eyes ; but Mrs. Hawley, without 
seeming to notice, raised the girl with one arm, and placing 
the pilloWwith accurate precision on the bed, laid her burden 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


33 


down again. How Agnes longed to feel herself drawn to the 
other’s breast; to see the hard face soften. But no ; although 
painful it was not destined that Mrs. Hawley should love Agnes 
Bonnard or any other woman. 

“You will want something to eat; I will get you some 
gruel,” she tartly remarked, when she had arranged the cover- 
let over Agnes. She was moving away when the girl inter- 
posed : 

“ Will you hand me the flowers, please ? ” 

“ You can see them from where you are,” she answered with 
a grim smile that was more exasperating than any angry retort 
she could have made. Agnes could not help asking : 

“ Why are you so unkind ? ” 

“Unkind!” the old woman indignantly exclaimed. “It 
is false ! There was never a kinder woman created than I ! 
Would any other have watched over and attended you as I 
have done, sacrificing her every comfort, especially when I 
could have throttled you ! ” 

She had drawn near the bed, and when she ceased speaking, 
stood leaning over Agnes with her eyes blazing and her claw- 
like fingers moving quickly and fiercely as though they craved 
to put into execution her wild words. 

“ You hate me, then ? And yet I have never wronged you ; 
I have tried to win your liking, but you refuse to accept my 
advances of friendship,” Agnes returned sorrowfully. 

“ Yes,” she hissed, “ I hate you ! I hate you because you 
are a woman, and may my deepest curse rest on you and all of 
your kind K’ 

“ Oh, hush, hush ! Don’t speak in that terrible way. It is 
wicked ; it is unwomanly ! ” Agnes protested. 

“Unwomanly! Then, by God’s will, I hope I may be 
always so if speaking the truth will make me otherwise.” 

“ But you do not understand me ; I meant that you ought 
not to have such thoughts.” 

“Enough, girl!” commanded Mrs. Hawley. “Because 

3 


34 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


you know nothing of the world, do not infer that I also am 
ignorant. 1 tell you women are the ones who should be 
accursed, for on them rests the blame of all the unhappiness 
of the world. Yes, women ! women, every time ! Do you 
think that I could not hold the affections of the man whom I 
loved did not a woman with a fairer face lure him from me ? 

I tell you I could ! Don’t look at me in that doubtful way ! 

I was not always old. Once the flash of youth sparkled in my 
eyes, and my cheeks were rosy ; once I knew I had a heart, 
for I loved ! Yes, loved ! But now I feel only hatred for all 
women — as for the men, I pity them ! ” 

“ You are unjust — bitterly — unnecessarily unjust. Surely I, 
whom your son loves, and whose affection I return ought to 
hold a tender spot in your heart ? ” 

“No,” she sternly returned, “ I hate you worse than all; 
for I feel that you will be — the curse of his life / ” 

Without another word she left the room. As the door closed 
after her, the grief Agnes felt could no longer be repressed. 

For some time no one disturbed her ; then there came a 
hasty tap at the door, and her brother and Edward Hawley 
entered the room. They caressed her very, very tenderly. 
Their greetings were different to the one she had lately expe- 
rienced, and brought a smile to her lips as she gazed at them. 

“ My dear little sister, thank God, you have been spared to 
us ! ” Louis had fervently said. 

As for Edward, he could only passionately exclaim as he 
strained her to his heart : “ Agnes, my love ! my life ! ” 

An hour later, when Louis had gone to attend to l^is pupils, 
Hawley drew close to Agnes’s bedside. She looked tenderly 
up at him, waiting the while for him to speak, for she saw he 
wished to broach some subject. 

“ My darling,” he began, clasping her hands tenderly, “I 
cannot describe what torture I experienced while you were bat- 
tling with death. It seemed almost as though my heart were 
in your hands and you were rending it to pieces. And do you 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


35 


know what thought made me suffer most ? — Although I loved 
you better than my own soul, I had not the right to call you 
by that dearest and most beautiful of all names — wife. But, I 
am determined that you shall become my wife immediately ; 
nothing must stand between us.” 

“ But your mother will not consent to such a proceeding, 
dear Edward,” said Agnes, a pained flush mantling her 
cheeks. 

“Never mind about my mother’s consent, sweetheart; for 
although she is a good mother, her prejudices against women 
must not stand in the way of my happiness,” he gayly 
answered. 

“ Ah, to you perhaps' it would not make much difference; 
but to me that is quite a different affair,” was her sad reply. 

“ Do you mean that the assistance my mother could give me 
if she would, is the reason you object ? ” he questioned, draw- 
ing back from her with a pained expression in his eyes. 

She held up her hands with a pleading gesture, that made 
him more ashamed of himself than any outburst of reproach 
could possibly have done. 

“ You might have spared me that taunt, when you know it 
is untrue,” she huskily said. 

“ Forgive me; forgive me ! ” he entreated. 

She lifted both his hands, pressed them to her lips, and 
then her dark eyes, glowing with tenderest love were lifted to 
his gaze. 

“Well, Agnes?” 

“ I love you very dearly, Edward; but — but — ” 

“ Yes, darling ? ” 

“I have decided,” she continued, “not to become your 
wife until your mother has learned to love me. I want her 
to look upon me as her daughter, not as an obstacle between 
you.” 

“Which is all utter nonsense,” he remonstrated. “My 
' { mother will never be brought to see things in their right light. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


36 

She has always hated women and always will, so put that idea 
out of your head, Agnes.” 

“But, Edward, dear, you don’t understand,” she gently 
returned. “ Every harsh word from her would strike like 
a whip-lash — every cold, cruel glance eat like fire into my 
heart ! ” 

“ You are too sensitive, my love.” 

“ Perhaps so, but harshness would kill me, and especially so 
from one whose love I desired to possess.” 

“ My loving, gentle darling ! Well, how long must I allow 
you to try and win mother’s love? ” 

“ I know it will be a hard task, but you must grant me at 
least a year’s time,” was her reply. 

“ Impossible ! Why that is fifty-two weeks ! three hundred 
and sixty-five days ! ” he expostulated, with an expression 
of such utter disappointment, Agnes could not repress laugh- 
ing. 

“You dear, silly, old Edward!” she cried playfully. 
“ You talk as though a year were a lifetime.” 

Mr. Hawley fumed dreadfully ; vowed it was an outrage to 
expect a fellow to wait three hundred and sixty-five days for a 
wife. He even went so far as to begin counting how many 
hours it would be, but as he couldn’t manage the multiplication 
of 365 by 24 quickly enough, he left off, and declared he 
would marry some other girl in the meantime, and then she 
would be sorry for having treated him soscurvily ; and he con- 
cluded pleadingly : 

“ Come now, Aggie, don’t be hard on me — make it six 
months.” 

“No, sir; not a day less than a year,” she firmly answered. 
Then added teasingly : “if you don’t stop tormenting me, I 
will make it two years.” 

This had the effect of causing him to desist. He said she 
was “ a cruel little thing, but he supposed he would have to be 
satisfied.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


37 


“The curse of his life indeed! ” thought Agnes. “Ah, 
Mrs. Hawley, you were wrong in saying that ; for how can I 
be his curse when I love him, and I am to be his wife. No, 
that is impossible ! ” 

But had “the hater of women” asserted an impossibility? 
Alas ! only time, the most wondrous of all revealers would 
tell i 


CHAPTER VI. 

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 

A week later, Agnes was strong enough to be about, and 
with her brother’s assistance managed to walk down-stairs to 
the sitting-room, where seated in an easy chair by the window, 
she enjoyed the warm, June sunshine. 

What thoughts passed through her mind sometimes when she 
sat there for long hours without interruption. She lived over 
again in sad remembrance the death of her beloved father, and 
determined that as soon as she was well, she would go to his 
grave, and kiss the cold, white stone that bore his name, and 
plant sweet flowers ; for although he was gone, her heart still 
clung to her “dear, old father.” 

One day, she was listlessly watching some little sparrows on 
the veranda, when she saw Dr. Wayne’s carriage stop in front 
of the house. Instantly, a wild, unaccountable thrill of rapture 
rushed through her heart, when she saw him alight and enter 
the gate. 

Surely there could be no circumstance more desirous to form 
a deep friendship than the fact that Dr. Wayne had attended 
Agnes during a serious illness, had saved her indeed, as her 
brother and Edward had candidly admitted, from certain 
death ; for now, when her health had so far progressed that he 
was compelled to say it needed only time to make her perfectly 
well, he still called frequently, although he never remained but 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


38 

a few minutes ; sometimes only inquiring how Agnes felt, or 
bringing a book he thought would interest her, and then 
departing. 

And how did Louis Bonnard regard the attentions, Dr. 
Wayne paid his sister ! By some influence on Dr. Wayne’s 
part, Mr. Bonnard regarded the doctor as his dearest friend, as 
also did Edward Hawley ; so, quite naturally, no wrong was 
suspected ; besides, they believed him too honorable to creep 
into their hearts under the guise of friendship and then play 
the hypocrite. 

But the persons in reality most unsuspicious of wrong were 
Agnes and Dr. Wayne. True, the doctor knew that were his 
wife like Agnes he might have been supremely happy ; but, at 
that time, at least, it never once occurred to him to think of 
Agnes in any other light than as a sister ; as such he loved her 
truly; and this love might have resulted as the most holy 
lights of both their lives had the doctor been happy with his 
wife. 

As for Agnes, learning from Edward Hawley of his wretched 
life, her gentle heart yielded forth a world of pity to him, 
mingled with romantic sentiment because of his being a 
hunchback. She thought constantly of him, yet so innocent 
was her nature, that she never dreamed of wrong or of the 
terrible sorrow which yawned before her unconscious heart. 

On this certain day as he came toward her up the gravel 
path, she could not help but notice that he looked very happy 
for one whom she knew or believed to be otherwise. 

“Perhaps,” she ruminated, “I have been pitying him 
unnecessarily ; perhaps his trouble is all imaginary.” 

This thought played such havoc with her heart that her 
greeting was miserably cold when he extended his hand. 
Where was the firm, warm grasp and kindly smile, she had 
been wont to give ! He looked at her in amazement: Was it 
possible that after all he was to be disappointed in regard to 
her goodness and sincerity? 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 39 

“ Won’t you be seated, sir?” her voice broke in upon his 
meditations. 

He started ; and although he seated himself, his searching 
glance never left her face; for some time she did not lift her 
eyes, but presently she looked up. 

“ Is your brother at home ? ” he casually remarked, scarcely 
knowing what to say. 

“ No, sir. He has gone on one of those long strolls, which 
he takes daily ; and for a man who says he will never fall in 
love those strolls are the most ridiculous of all contradic- 
tions.” 

“ Why, how do you make that out? ” Wayne asked laugh- 
ingly, for his good humor was rapidly returning under the 
influence of her cheerful mood. 

“ Doctor, did you ever know of a poetical nature that could 
not love, and love most ardently? Now, Louis is poetical, 
although he won’t admit it, and those strolls of his are the 
very essence of poetry ; for who ever knew of a man to go to a 
park to admire the beauty of the trees, listen to the chirping 
of birds, and see the hundreds of other beauties there unless he 
were poetical ! Oh, no indeed, I can’t be deceived ! ” 

And Agnes tossed her head, and laughed with glee over the 
opinions she had expressed. 

“ What a wonderful discerner you are ! ” exclaimed the 
doctor smilingly. “ Supposing now, you judge me; will 
you ? ” 

She shook her head gravely, and answered that she did not 
know him well enough for that. 

“ I beg that you will not insist on my doing so,” she added, 
with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes. 

He looked at her for a few minutes in silence, then took her 
hand. She smiled. 

“You are a puzzle to me,” he finally declared, “when I 
saw you first to-day, a chill struck my heart, for you were 
so cold, so unlike the kind, little woman, I had begun to re- 


40 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


gard as my friend and sister ; and now, with your hand in 
mine, and that serious, gentle smile on your lips, you are 
your old self again. Are you angry with me, Miss Agnes, for 
speaking thus? ” 

“ Angry?” she exclaimed in surprise. “Oh, sir — Dr. 
Wayne, why should I be angry ? ” 

“ Then you will be my little friend ? ” 

“Doctor, you are rich, respected and noble; and there- 
fore, you are asking a very foolish question of me. You know 
quite well that there are many people who would be proud to 
know you even as an acquaintance, leaving all question of 
friendship aside.’ ’ 

“So you think that you ought to be proud to call me your 
friend ? Ah, Agnes, how coldly you sp^k, very much like 
the world in general, which has but little sympathy for our 
heartaches, but worships the possessors of money or fame. 
Agnes, into the darkness of every unhappy life there must be 
some warm, glowing stream of light to keep the sacred heart 
from withering. When I first saw you, I realized instantly 
that you would do me good ; one word uttered by your 
father at that first meeting, has been ringing in my ears ever 
since. Only one word, yet its meaning is so sweet and good 
— ‘comforter!’ Oh, Agnes, dear Agnes,” he cried, with 
quivering lips, “will you let me reveal to you the contents of 
my heart, and as a sister be my — comforter? ” 

She took the trembling, outstretched hands into her own, 
drew the sorrowful face to her breast, and then, as a saint 
might have done, with oh, such gentle pity in her eyes, she 
lightly pressed her lips to his brow. 

“Yes,” she whispered, and her words fell like sweetest 
music on his ear, “I will be your sister and comforter ! ” 

For the first time in long years, Dr. Wayne felt con- 
tented. What were the tortures of the past to the divineness 
of the present ! 

Tenderly, Agnes smoothed back the hair from his burning 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 41 

brow, and murmured sweet words of consolation — and yet he 
wept ; but his tears were of joy ! 

When he had at length restrained his emotion, and taken 
his leave, Agnes fell into a deep reverie. She was greatly 
alarmed over what had happened, and wondered with much 
trepidation whether she had done rights Conscience said 
“yes,” but reason said “no.” In the latter case, why had 
she been so imprudent as to allow his sorrows to arouse her 
pity so far as to cause her to forget everything else in her desire to 
comfort him ? But conscience coming forward here asserted that 
she had done right in comforting him, for some day perhaps 
she might be in need of sympathy, and then, how grateful 
she would be if someone would speak kindly to her. Thus 
she argued. 

And Dr. Wayne ? From the moment she had clasped his 
hands in all her sympathy, an astounding discovery had 
dawned upon his heart. He realized then, and oh, bitter, 
bitter indeed was the knowledge under the circumstances, that 
he was wildly, madly in love with her ! What would he not 
have given to have had the right to tell her of his passion, and 
win her ; for yes, although she was herself unconscious of the 
truth, he knew that he had the power to win her love. Had 
he not seen her face flush and her eyes brighten at his coming, 
and needed he better proof than that? But oh, agony, 
agony ! where was the good of it all, when he could never 
dare to claim her ! And, oh, appalling thought ! he saw now 
what he had never seen so plainly before ; that on the altar of 
youth, in his recklessness and folly, he had slain the beauty 
of his manhood ! His passion was more intense than it other- 
wise would have been, because he knew it must be stifled. She 
must not even dream that he loved her, nor must anyone else ; 
he must bury his affection in his heart and* remember that 
he already had a mate for his life companion, however 
stern the knowledge might be. Alas ! poor, pitiful, but vain 
regret ! 


42 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


And then other tormenting reflections came to his mind ; to 
be acting honorably, he ought to remain away from her for- 
ever. But fully developed as were all his moral sentiments, 
human nature was stronger. Not that he admitted this at 
once ; no indeed ! At first he determined to hold to his hon- 
orable resolutions, and really attempted to do so. For one 
week he did not see her; but then came the old, fierce 
desire to speak to her again, to feel the clasp of her hand, and 
although he tried hard to restrain these weaknesses, his heart 
clamored in rebellion, and his resolutions died ! 

Another objection to his peace of mind was, although he 
knew he could not claim Agnes, he did not like the idea of 
somebody else claiming her, even though that someone else 
was a friend. To have known, however, that she loved him, 
and would forever remain true to that love, would have con- 
tented him. But could he accept such a sacrifice however 
willing she might be to make it? No ! a thousand times, no ! 
What misery it would be in later years, when she found her- 
self alone in the world, having lavished long years of devotion 
upon him, and receiving nothing in the end for her affection. 
And an intensified misery would be the knowledge that she 
might have been surrounded like other women with a loving 
husband and children. 

No ; necessary as her love was to his happiness, never would 
he so far forget himself as to even hint that her loyalty to 
Edward Hawley would make him unhappy; for he knew, 
that possessing her love, rather than give him pain, she 
would sacrifice all her future welfare, so generous were her 
impulses. 

As to taking her to his heart, and thrusting aside his wife, 
such a thought was not to be considered ; it was too detest- 
able. But, although he knew Agnes could be nothing to him, 
he determined to indulge his weakness in seeing her at least, 
until she became Mrs. Hawley, and was beyond his reach 
indeed. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


43 


CHAPTER VII. 
the doctor’s determination. 

One morning a few days later, as Louis Bonnard and Agnes 
had just finished breakfasting, the click of the gate warned 
them of the approach of a visitor. 

A few minutes later, a sharp clang of the door-bell pealed 
through the house ; then they heard the servant walk past the 
dining-room door on her way up- stairs to open the hall door. 
Here Agnes, giving way to her curiosity, went out into the 
hallway and listened to the colloquy going on above. 

“ Can I see Miss Agnes? Er — is she awake ? ” stammer- 
ingly asked a well-known voice; the voice of Edward 
Hawley. 

Awake indeed ! and it after nine o’clock ! Did the foolish 

« 

fellow suppose she slept till noon, Agnes asked herself. 

“Yes sir,” was the girl’s reply, “ she’s in the dining-room ; 
she and Mr. Bonnard are having their breakfast, sir.” 

“ Oh, in that case, I will go down.” 

Agnes hastily re-entered the dining-room and waited for 
Mr. Hawley to make his appearance. They heard him 
rapidly descending the stairs, humming a merry tune as he 
came on, then suddenly there was a great crash, and as they 
rushed out to discover the cause, they saw Hawley sprawling 
on the floor, having tripped over a mat. He was muttering a 
tirade of invectives against mats in general, and that one in 
particular. So comical did he look that Agnes could not re- 
frain laughing merrily at his expense. 

“ What in the name of common sense brings you here so 
early, and acting like a lunatic ? ” sternly demanded Louis 
though his eyes were sparkling with laughter. 


44 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“ God bless my soul ! ” was- poor Hawley’s answer as he 
picked himself up, “I thought I had landed in sheol ! ” 

Another peal of laughter from Agnes in which her brother 
uproariously joined, and even Hawley smiled vaguely ; then 
grasping his hands, they drew him into the dining-room, and 
demanded an explanation of his early call. 

“ Ugh ! Lord ! ” he gasped, sinking into a seat and using 
his handkerchief vigorously to fan himself. “ I give you my 
word, there’s nothing like an unexpected tumble to make a 
man hot ; it beats all the Turkish baths in town.” 

“You are an evidence of that fact ; but tell us for gracious 
sake, why you are here so early,” said Agnes with mock im- 
patience. 

“Oh, to be sure! to be sure !” Hawley hastily replied, 
anxious to avoid her quizzing. “Well you see, Agnes, I felt 
so happy when I heard the news that I couldn’t postpone my 
desire to tell you of it. The only cousin I have, is coming to 
pay my mother a visit ! ” 

“ Indeed ? ” quite indifferently. 

Her lack of interest mortified him. 

“I had hoped,” said Hawley, in a somewhat constrained 
manner, “ that you would be pleased to hear of it, as Estelle 
would be a pleasant companion.” 

“ What is she like? ” asked Agnes. 

Hawley stared at her with a perplexed look ; here was a 
pretty state of things ! 

“ Why, upon my soul,” he stammeringly replied, “I don’t 
know myself ! I haven’t seen her as yet.” 

“ Weil, well ! that is certainly lucid coming from such a 
thoughtless fellow as you. But what effect has this news upon 
your mother? ” 

“ From the way the letter reads, she says she has some hope 
of making her a woman like herself. Of course, such is her 
wish, although I can’t say that I agree with her,” complacently 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT \ 45 

pursued Hawley. 1 1 However, here is the letter ; read it and 
judge for yourselves.” 

And he handed Louis the epistle. 

After glancing over it, Bonnard read aloud : 

My Dear Sister : — Although I am well aware of your opinion of 
women, I am forced to beg as a favor, that you will receive into your 
home and protection for a few months, my only daughter, Estelle. I am 
compelled in the meantime to travel around amongst business people, 
and, as it would be uncomfortable for her to be continually on the move, 
I make this appeal. 

“ I do not think she will annoy you much as she is a mere child as yet, 
in spite of her seventeen years. 

“ If you will be so kind as to indulge this most earnest wish, please 
telegraph me a line at once, and oblige, 

“ Your brother, 

“ Walter Richmond.” 

s . 

The envelope was post-marked Buffalo. When Louis had 
finished reading the letter, he pronounced it terse and busi- 
ness-like. 

“ I should imagine her,” he added, “ something like Agnes, 
not quite so grave, perhaps; but innocent and lovable.” 

“Estelle!” Agnes exclaimed, with a thrill of delight. 
u What a pretty name ; and only seventeen at that. I believe 
we shall be very good friends.” 

Edward was charmed to hear these opinions of his cousin, 
and replied with great, good humor : 

“ Upon my word, it makes me happy to hear you speak 
thus. You see, ’tis something new for a fellow who isn’t 
blest with a sister, to think that at last his cravings in that 
direction are to be almost gratified ; so naturally his heart 
goes out to the being who is to fill that precious place.” 

“I declare, Mr. Hawley, I’ll become jealous if you insist 
talking that way,” said Agnes, with mock asperity. 

But Edward said he didn’t care so long as she didn’t break 
a certain compact she had made with him ; then he suddenly 


46 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


remembered that he had promised his mother to telegraph her 
willingness to receive her niece as soon as it might please her 
to come. Accordingly, he bade Agnes and her brother a 
“ good-morning ” and took his leave. 

Louis Bonnard watched Edward’s receding form from the 
window, and approaching his sister, said gravely : 

“ I’m sorry, Agnes, if I pain you ; but I really cannot un- 
derstand how you can love a man of Edward’s type. Are 
you quite sure that you honestly love him ? ” 

He placed his hands on her shoulder as he waited for her 
answer. 

She put her arms around his neck, and softly whispered, 
“ yes.” 

How his hand lingered on her bowed head, ere he unclasped 
her arms from his neck, and quietly and sadly left the room. 

“Ah, well,” he reflected very seriously, “it is useless, I 
suppose, to interfere between them, but I cannot understand 
how she can yield her heart to such as him. They have no 
thought whatever in common, but I suppose the attachment is 
based upon her vanity in having a lover, and this feeling I am 
afraid will play the mischief with her happiness. But the 
worst of it all, is, I cannot point out any really bad defects in 
the fellow’s character to turn her against him. Ten chances to 
one, she wouldn’t change if I could.” 

He ran his fingers thoughtfully through his hair ; but 
strangely enough, not even a shadow of the knowledge that 
she was changing, crossed his mind. 

****** 

At the same time Edward Hawley was discussing his cousin 
with Louis and Agnes Bonnard, Mrs. Wayne sat alone by her 
sitting-room window, cogitating. 

Surely if luxurious comfort and beauty can make one 
happy, then Mrs. Wayne ought to have been supremely so. 

A soft, thick carpet covered the floor ; capacious, softly 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


47 


cushioned chairs, and tables strewn with volumes of the best 
prose and poetry ; elegant draperies and rare paintings ; long 
mirrors and bric-a-brac were there to make it cultured and 
charming. And Mrs. Wayne herself, in a pale rose cashmere 
wrapper with old yellow lace at her throat and wrists, looked 
beautiful beyond description ; yet notwithstanding it all her 
eyes were sad and wistful. 

She sighed as she stretched out her hand toward a little, old- 
fashioned desk, brass-bound, lying on a table near her. Her 
hands tremble as she unlocks it. She hesitates a moment be- 
fore opening it, then with a quick, decided motion throws up 
the lid. Oh, with what terrible heart-ache she scans the con- 
tents exposed. How she glowers over them, her eyes blinded 
with tears of pain and regret ! 

She lifted them out at length ; the first was a small package 
f letters — the second, a tiny pair of baby shoes. 

She untied the blue ribbon round the letters, and then, 
owly, lingeringly/ she read every one; and as she did so, the 
.ace of the writer loomed before her. She could see again, the 
dark, glowing eyes in the young, noble face; could hear again 
his strong voice thrilling with tenderest love as he whispered : 

“In a year, Harriet, my darling, when I am a little further 
advanced in my profession, I shall come to claim you. Until 
then be true to me ! ” 

Ay, even in his letters, confident of her love, he had written 
that “in a year he would claim her,” but alas ! she had been 
false — false ! She was the wife of another, and the signatuie 
to those letters was — Louis Bonnard ! 

Yes, her vain, selfish heart, which had opened to nobler 
impulses under the influence of Bonnard’s love, had still been 
weak enough to sacrifice all for money and position. Had 
Bonnard been wealthy, she would have been supremely happy ; 
but, had she married him poor as he was, although she might 
think otherwise now, she would have made not only herself 
unhappy, but also Louis. Such natures crave too much. They 


48 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


are not content with money alone, or the love of the man they 
worship ; they want both, and unfortunately such happiness is 
allotted to but few. 

Instead of making the best of her choice, Mrs. Wayne did 
just the opposite. She began to hate her husband ; her heart 
continually moaned for that she had lost ; naturally enough, 
no man can continue to love forever where his affection is 
ignored. There must be a climax to all such conditions, and 
in this case, it resulted in his return of her hatred ! 

The child that had worn those tiny shoes, might have been 
the means of brightening their lives, for the interest of both 
would at least have been centred in one object. But, alas ! — 
sweet little angel ! — barely had she begun to toddle from one 
laughing parent to the other, than the Shepherd claimed her 
for His own. When Mrs. Wayne realized that her one gleam of 
sunshine was gone, her abhorrence of her husband intensified, 
and she sought forgetfulness in the continuous excitement of 
society, where she found many devoted admirers of the other 
sex. 

Yet, not once did her heart swerve from the passion she felt 
for Louis Bonnard ; not for one hour did she forget the little 
angel who might have been her salvation had it lived. She 
realized more than she had ever done at that moment, when 
she held those little shoes in her hands, fondly caressing them, 
of the good her child might have done her. Tears of anguish 
filled her eyes, and kissing them passionately, she put them in 
the desk again to hide them from her sight. Over the letters 
too, she performed the same ceremony ; then the key was 
turned in the lock of the desk, and those sweet, sad emblems 
of happier days were hidden from her view until the impulse 
to see them again should seize her. 

She now turned her attention to the morning mail. The 
first letter she opened was from her dressmaker, stating that 
she would have madame’s robes ready for expressage to the 
country on time. Mrs. Wayne smiled with satisfaction, and 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


49 


began to fancy the conquests she would make in her elegant 
new dresses. The sight of a letter addressed in a familiar 
hand- writing changed the channel of her thoughts. She tore 
it hastily open, and read : 

“ Dear Mrs. Wayne ! — Soon, although I would it were sooner, but 
next week I shall have the pleasure of seeing you once more. Yes, I am 
coming back to dear, old Brooklyn, for I cannot linger longer away 
from you — ” 

The letter was from Conrad Moore. 

“ Ah,” sighed Mrs. Wayne, when she had read and re-read 
it, “ why couldn’t he have come sooner. In two weeks I shall 
be in the country, and what good will his coming.be then ? ” 

And with a frown on her brow, she continued to think over 
the provoking circumstance, until the clock on the mantel 
chiming ten, brought her thoughts back to the present. Half 
an hour later, she was enjoying her morning walk, with quick, 
elastic step ; for Mrs. Wayne thoroughly appreciated the good 
results of a brisk walk, and would not have missed it, rain or 
shine. 

That same day, when she repaired to the dining-room for 
afternoon tea, she found Dr. Wayne waiting for her, looking 
very happy. He was actually smiling. 

“You appear to be enjoying something,” she remarked, 
looking sharply at him as they seated themselves at the table, 
for it was rarely that she found him so pleasant ; usually a 
frown lowered his eyebrows, or he was moody and silent. 

“ Yes,” he lightly returned, “lam considerably amused.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ Yes. I met Edward Hawley half an hour since, and the 
poor fellow appears actually crazed with happiness.” 

With newly awakened interest Mrs. Wayne asked what it 
was about. 

“ A young lady cousin of his is coming to visit his mother, 
and from the way he speaks, I believe he expects she will be a 
regular sister to him. Also, on the day of her arrival, we are 

4 


So 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


invited to his home to make it pleasant for her. But, I sup- 
pose your time will be occupied ? Anyhow, it will be a very 
tame affair; only a few of his friends are invited, and it can 
hardly be enjoyable.” 

He gave this explanation with marked politeness ; but those 
expressions about it being “ too tame an affair for her enjoy- 
ment,” plainly inferred that he did not desire her to go; 
thereupon Mrs. Wayne decided that she would go. 

“ Oh, I think,” she said, “ I will enjoy such an affair very 
much. I would not miss seeing Edward greeting his cousin 
for the world. When does she arrive ? ” 

“ This is Wednesday. Edward tells me, a week from to-day 
she is expected,” was the doctor’s crestfallen reply. The rest 
of the meal was eaten in silence. 

Dr. Wayne was sadly disappointed. He had thought to 
spend an afternoon in the society of people he liked, but now, 
however genial they might all be, he knew he would feel con- 
strained when he saw Agnes and his wife in the same room. 

He fancied himself looking at the one, beautiful as a dream, 
but whose beauty, although it might be ten times greater than 
it already was, would fail to awaken warmth and love in his 
heart. While the other, shy and grave, her eyes beaming 
with intelligence and the sweetness of her gentle disposition, 
would appeal to his innermost soul, and awaken a wild 
rebellion against his wife, which could only intensify his 
longing for Agnes. 

Yes, the thought of his wife sickened him now ; her beauty 
was hateful to him, for he saw no soul beneath it ; or if any 
semblance thereto existed, it was only a shallow mockery to 
him. He began to wonder if he had ever loved her ; and this 
feeling enlarged upon by his imagination, made him actually 
believe he had been entrapped into marriage under the spell 
of her loveliness and artifices. 

If she were only different ; kinder and more grateful, noth- 
ing would have changed him; while now, all his highest, 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


51 


moral sentiments, the pride of his life thus far, were rapidly 
dwindling away, and he was beginning to think that a woman 
whom he could love and who would return his affection, ought 
to be taken to his heart in spite of all obstacles. 

Yes, he convinced himself, a man ought not to risk a life- 
time’s happiness for the mistake of his youth. At least, not a 
man situated as he was. If anyone was to be dishonored by 
such an act it would be different — his little child who had 
died, for instance. He would have suffered the tortures of 
the damned rather than dishonor should lie on his child’s 
head even by a hair’s breadth ! 

But dishonor would not hurt Mrs. Wayne in this case. She 
was no wife to him — hers was a heartless, thoughtless, and 
thankless nature as far as he was concerned. Could she have 
acted as she did were she otherwise ? She had outraged his 
name, and all he had ever done for her, she accepted as her 
due, in thankless style ; she had ruined the best part of his life 
thus far, but his future with the help of God, he would map 
out himself as his heart dictated ! Never, never more, should 
his youthful folly mar the happines of his manhood and old 
age ! Such was his decision and he considered it a thoroughly 
just one under the circumstances. 

He believed that he had but to win Agnes’s love to carry out 
his intentions, and he thought he had ample proof already of 
her affection ; but, whether, after he had won it she would be 
strong enough to brave the opinion of the world and fearlessly 
stand by him, he did not consider. On the contrary, he be- 
lieved that the all-absorbing, inexpressible love he bore her, 
would master her weaknesses. He was yet to learn, however, 
that beneath that gentle, loving surface, was a will as indom- 
itable as his own, but in an entirely different direction ; for it 
had honor, and a deep trust in what God had ordained, as 
being right to uphold, even with suffering; and never, until 
her opinions had been crushed could he dare to hope hh 
might rule ! 


5 2 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Edward’s doubts set at rest. 

The following Tuesday, Edward Hawley, while walking 
along Fulton Street was accosted by Conrad Moore, who 
slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and wantld to know 
if Hawley’s memory was getting weak that he failed to recog- 
nize old friends when he met them. 

“I did not see you; I am glad to welcome you back to 
Brooklyn, however. When did you arrive ? ’’. politely asked 
Edward, as he extended his hand ; but there was no 
warmth in his greeting, which fact Moore pretended not to 
notice. 

“Oh, about an hour ago,” he replied. “By the way, 
how is everybody ? Mrs. Wayne and the doctor in partic- 
ular? ” 

“ They are both quite well.” 

“ That’s jolly ; but how about yourself? I heard you 
had given up your idea of going on the road this season ? ” 

“Yes; a friend of mine in whom I am deeply interested 
was seriously ill, and that prevented me.” 

“ A friend ? Ah, I understand, my boy ; I wish you luck ! 
I’m going to call at the doctor’s now, so good-by,” and he 
shook hands with Hawley, smiled again, and was about to 
start off, when his companion said : 

“ If you have no other engagement for to-morrow afternoon, 
come to my house ; a young lady cousin of mine is expected 
to arrive, and I wish to make things pleasant for her. Dr. and 
Mrs. Wayne are coming, too, so we will have quite a reunion 
of old friends.” 

“ Thank you, old fellow ! ” heartily said Moore, and then 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 53 

added with a quizzing smile : “ Will that friend in whom you 
are so much interested be there ? ” 

Edward nodded affirmatively. 

“ If such be the case, you may certainly expect me ; I 
am anxious to see the young lady who is so dear to you.” 

They parted then, the best of friends again, for Edward’s 
impressionable heart made him believe Moore to be sincere ; 
and quite naturally he felt elated by it. He now went on his 
way to Willow Street, whistling a merry air from one of the 
latest popular operas. 

As he was about to enter the gate leading to Agnes’s home, 
he saw Louis just coming out. They met midway between the 
gate and the house. 

“ Ah,” gaily cried Edward, “off for a walk, Louis?” 

“Yes; will you join me? Agnes has gone shopping.” 

Hawley hesitated, then ventured : 

“ Perhaps she will return soon? *’ 

“I think not; she only went away about fifteen minutes 
since.” 

“Then I shall be glad to join you,” said Hawley; and 
they walked on, Edward keeping up a loquacious conversation, 
his companion being strangely silent. 

When, however, they were seated in Fort Greene Park, 
Louis surprised his friend, by exclaiming : 

“ Confound it all ! ” 

“ Do I annoy you by talking? ” said Edward reddening. 

“No, no! you misunderstand me; I meant that certain 
feelings are annoying me,” Bonnard hastily explained. 

“ What is the matter? ” 

“I am under the impression that something will occur at 
your house to-morrow that will affect me.” 

Edward threw back his head and laughed loudly : 

“What!” he cried. “Louis Bonnard superstitious! 
God bless my soul, but that is a bit singular! I’ll tell 


54 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


you what it is, my boy, I think you will fall in love with 
Estelle.” 

“Nonsense!” cried Louis, frowning. “You let your 
imagination run away with you ! Besides, I shall never fall 
in love.” 

He stared dreamily, as though looking back into the past. 
His expression was not lost on his companion who shrewdly 
remarked : 

“ Because you are already in love? ” 

“ Good heavens, man, let me alone ! You’re actually driv- 
ing me mad ! ” Bonnard exclaimed, a smouldering fire gleam- 
ing in his eyes, and his face flushing and paling alternately. 

“No,” returned Hawley, as he clasped his friend’s hand, 
“ I shall not let you alone. I have discovered the secret of 
why your life is embittered and I mean to know more. I am 
happy in my love affair, and I want you to be happy in yours; 
so come, my boy, tell me all about it, that I may be of service 
to you.” 

Bonnard smiled wistfully as he looked into his friend’s hon- 
est, good-natured face, and his heart had never warmed to- 
ward him so much as then ; but a sigh escaped his lips as he 
returned : 

“You are a good fellow, but you cannot help me. My 
love affair is of over ten years’ standing.” 

“ Oh, nonsense, Louis, you cannot expect me to believe all 
that ! Why, I have seen you myself paying marked attention 
to several young ladies, and very recently.” 

“ My dear boy, there’s where you are in error. All that is 
seen must not be taken for granted. That is where people 
make mistakes. Young ladies cannot have gentlemen pay 
marked attention to them, but their friends at once conclude 
that they wish to make them their wives. It is unfortunate 
that such is the case, because as long as it remains so, a man 
cannot regard a young woman as a friend only, for the world’s 
talk will have it otherwise, and often indeed be the means 


TtiE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


55 

of making both parties unhappy by forcing upon them the 
marriage vows.” 

Both remained silent for some time when Bonnard had 
ceased talking, but Edward soon broke the spell. 

“But what has that illustration to do with your affair ? ” 
he questioned impatiently. 

“ Nothing but that I wished to make you understand that I 
was not in love with any of the young ladies to whom I have 
paid attention. My own affair ? You want to hear it ? Well, 
Edward, I placed my heart in a woman’s possession ten years 
ago, and she almost broke it ! ” 

“ My poor friend ! ” 

“Yes,” went on Bonnard bitterly, gnawing his moustache, 
“ I gave her the dearest love of my heart, and she had prom- 
ised to be mine, but she was false. I have no more knowl- 
edge of where she is now, or what her life may be than you 
have, for when I went to claim her, I learned that she had left 
the village to be married. No one seemed to know the name 
of the gentleman she wedded, but they understood that he 
was wealthy.” 

“ And you have never seen her since? ” 

“Never.” 

“ Supposing you should meet her again? ” 

Louis shook his head sadly and returned: “It is not 
likely.” 

Edward became lost in thought. His companion began to 
sing softly with his eyes fixed dreamily on his hands. 

“ half the earth may intervene 

Thy place of rest and mine between — 

And leagues of land and wastes of waves 
May stretch and toss between our ” 

“Louis,” interrupted Edward, suddenly, “do you know 
that you are singing a favorite song of Mrs. Wayne’s? ” 

“I wasn’t aware that it was her favorite, but I have heard 
her singing it. She has a wonderful voice.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 


S6 


“ Divine ; but when did you hear her sing? I thought you 
had never met her ? ” questioned Hawley in surprise. 

“Nor have I,” answered Bonnard ; and then he explained 
how he had happened to hear her, the night he had called to 
see the doctor about his father. He concluded : 

“By the way, Hawley, what does she look like? She has 
a voice that is strangely familiar to me, so naturally lam quite 
interested; but don’t imagine,” he added, as he observed 
Edward smiling, “ that I think Mrs. Wayne and the woman I 
loved are the same. That is utterly impossible, for she could 
never become like Mrs. Wayne.” 

“You do not wish me to describe her character then? ” 

“No; simply her appearance. I have heard enough of 
her character as it is, and I cannot say it is an agreeable sub- 
ject.” 

Edward gave a description as near as he could as to what 
Mrs. Wayne was like. 

“ Tall, queenly figure ; face that had nothing striking in its 
makeup, but did have the outward materials of a dainty skin, 
regular features, bright blue eyes, and silky brown hair, to 
atone for what she lacked in expression. Strange,” repeated 
Bonnard, “ very strange — even in appearance they correspond 
as well as in the tone of voice. What is Mrs. Wayne’s Chris- 
tian name, Edward ? ” 

“I can’t say — I have really never heard it.” 

And so, although Bonnard was prepared to behold on the 
morrow a woman who would remind him of his lost love, he 
did not dream that he was to see her in Mrs. Wayne. Their 
conversation drifted to other subjects. They wandered about 
the park, and watched the tennis players ; and the sun was 
sinking redly in the west when they thought of returning home. 

Agnes was watering her flowers, and she was so occupied 
with them, that she failed to see her brother and Edward until 
the click of the gate fell on her ear. She greeted them with a 
gentle smile, and bade them come and have tea. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


5 7 


How cheerful and bright the dining-room looked when they 
entered it, the dying rays of the sun illumining everything 
with a faint rosy light. How their appetites increased under 
the influence of what their eyes feasted on when they were 
seated at the table. 

Although it was arranged simply, it looked dainty and ele- 
gant, and everything on it was perfectly prepared, for Agnes 
Bonnard never did anything slipshod in her household duties. 
Or if by accident her cooking was spoiled, no one but herself 
ever knew of it. 

“Ah, Aggie,” smilingly said her brother, “ how good of 
you to have fried oysters for tea; and how delicious they look. 
I say, Edward, there’s nothing like excellent eating to put a 
man in good humor, is there?” 

“Nothing,” agreed Edward. “And you had best enjoy 
while you can the excellence of your sister’s housekeeping, 
because I mean to rob you of her soon.” 

“Agnes,” said Louis, with mock despair, turning to her, 
“ do you mean to desert me ? ” 

“She can’t withdraw her promise,” interrupted Hawley, 
with a joyous laugh. Agnes blushed, and was silent. 

“I suppose I shall have to get a new housekeeper then, 
since you mean to leave me, Agnes? ” said Louis, laughingly. 

“ It’s a wonder you don’t think of getting married yourself, 
brother. You’re old enough, goodness knows ” 

“Only hear her, Edward! I actually believe the little 
witch wants to get rid of me. It’s a downright shame ! after 
my fidelity to her ever since her birth, too.” 

Agnes laughed merrily. 

“One would think by the way you speak, Louis,” she said, 
“ that when a man marries, his wife translates him into a dif- 
ferent being. What do you mean ? ” 

“ Well, the young women of the present day are such chat- 
ter-boxes that constant companionship with them, must drive 
a man distracted. May heaven protect me from their wiles ! ” 


S3 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


“Bonnard!” cried Edward. “Upon my soul, I’ll — - 
I’ll— M 

He laughingly made a lunge at his friend as though he in- 
tended to annihilate him for speaking so lightly of the sex. 
Agnes interposed : 

“ Let us leave him to the tender mercies of his future wife 
- — Estelle Richmond.” 

“ What ! Is it a plan between you, to make me the victim 
of a child I have never even seen ? Why, supposing she should 
turn out to be a chatter-box ? ” 

“It would serve you right,” said Edward, and Agnes 
laughed banteringly. 

Altogether, the meal was an enjoyable one. When they 
were ready to repair to the sitting-room, however, Louis 
begged to be excused, saying he had some letters to write. 

The sitting-room was almost in complete darkness when 
Agnes and Edward entered it ; but he begged her not to light 
the lamp, so together they stood by the window for some time. 

Later, Hawley spoke of how happy their married life would 
be, and conjured up many a tender little fancy. But Agnes’s 
interest was listless. Indeed she had so very little to say, that 
Edward finally lapsed into silence. 

A curious, puzzled expression was in his eyes as he looked 
at Agnes, and it gradually deepened into a pained look. When 
he could no longer bear the thought that had crept into his 
heart, he said, his voice trembling, but very tender : 

“Agnes, can it be that you are changing? Tell me the 
truth. It is better that we should understand each other at- 
once. Do not, I implore you, conceal your real feelings from 
me now, only to blast my fondest hopes later. If you have 
changed, I will bow to anything you may suggest to make you 
happy ; for no matter how I may stand in your affections, you 
are, and always will be, the only woman 1 can ever love. Tell 
me, dear one, have you changed ? ” 

She did not answer for some moments, and Hawley, pale 


THE MIDNIGHT TLOPEMENt. 


With dreaded doubts, anxiously waited, with her hand tightly 
clasped in his own as though he thought he could retain her 
heart through the influence of his touch. 

Unconscious of what her heart dictated, Agnes believed she 
was still in love with him. 

“Dear Edward,” she gently said, laying her arms about 
his neck, “ forgive me for causing you even a moment’s pain. 
I never intended it ; I love you too dearly for that ! ” 

“ And my love for you is immortal,” he fervently said, gaz- 
ing with eyes full of mad devotion into her face. “Yes,” he 
continued after a pause, “ my love for you will never die, 
come what may ; but I need not fear ; you are too generous 
and noble, my darling, to ever trifle with me.” 

Agnes assured him her love rather was too great to cause her 
to even risk losing his affection und^r any circumstances. 

“ God grant you may always think that, dearest,” he fer- 
vently said, “ for, if ever you become false, you will make my 
life a curse to me ! ” 

Thus ended their first misunderstanding, but looking back 
in the darkness of later days, how earnestly she wished it had 
ended differently. 

It was late when Hawley arose to leave. 

Agnes went with him to the gate, and there they lingered, 
looking up and down the dark, deserted street, whispering lov- 
ing words and holding each other’s hands. 

When they had come from the house, they had not noticed 
a rather short, thick-set man, who was about to pass, suddenly 
stop as though he were surprised or annoyed to see them, and 
who then hid in the shadow of a tree near by. 

Every loving glance, every 0 passionate hand-clasp the man 
saw, caused his face to grow whiter; still he stood there unable 
seemingly to resist watching them. 

But, when Hawley had finally gone, and he had seen Agnes 
return to the house, he came forth from his hiding-place stag- 
gering like a drunken man with his hand pressed to his heart. 


6o 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


“ Oh, God ! ” he muttered in agony. “ Blind, conceited 
fool to imagine she loved me ! ” 

And as he was passing the house, the light of a lamp she 
had just lit, streaming from her chamber window, fell upon 
his face, and revealed — Dr. Wayne. 


CHAPTER IX. 

AT MRS. HAWLEY’S. 

Although Mrs. Hawley expected her niece and her son’s 
friends, she had made but very little preparation for their en- 
joyment and comfort ; but then she was a woman who didn’t 
believe in exerting herself too much for the benefit of people 
she thought disliked her. True, she had prepared a room for 
her niece’s occupancy ; her parlor was as clean as hands could 
make it, but then for a woman who was known to be wealthy 
it was furnished very poorly. The carpet was so worn, its de- 
sign could scarcely be seen ; the furniture was upholstered with 
black-hair cloth, and looked gloomy ; the portraits of some old 
generals in their gilt frames were uninteresting, indeed, not a 
solitary cheerful object, not even a book was there to give a 
brightness to its dismal aspect. It was all as dark and miser- 
able as though a funeral service were to be read. 

This room was rarely occupied by any one but herself ; 
Edward preferred his own chamber, which although plainly 
furnished, was exceedingly pleasant in comparison. Often, lie 
had tried to persuade his mother to furnish their home with more 
elegance, but she would reply in her grim, sententious way : 

“ When I am dead you can do as you please ; while I live, 
I shall furnish my home according to my own taste.” 

And so he had ceased to remonstrate with her, although 
often on occasions like the present, when he had invited his 
friends to come and see him, he was mortified at the appear- 
ance of things. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


6 1 


But the strangest thing of all was, that the upper part of the 
house was entirely unoccupied. Everyone thought this an ex- 
tremely queer proceeding on the part of Mrs. Hawley, whom 
they knew to be miserly, and none wondered ov£r it more than 
her own son. The house was a three story and basement 
brown-stone Jbuilding, and the two upper floors were never 
used ; why then, Mrs. Hawley did not turn them to account 
was a mystery, and- evidently would remain so. Edward often 
thought that perhaps she wanted no one to disturb her, and 
that that was her sole reason for having it empty. 

But, if Mrs. Hawley made little preparation for her visitor’s 
entertainment, her son acted otherwise. Unknown to his 
mother, mysterious packages made their way to his room, and 
were intrusted to the care of a young girl hired as waitress for 
the occasion. So Mrs. Hawley was fairly aghast when she saw 
the wonderful display of viands on her table. Luscious fruit, 
salads, meat, fish, custards, pies, and cake, and what had not 
been seen in her house for many a day — rare wines, claret and 
champagne, which when mingled together in the dainty wine 
glasses, looked like bubbling blood and stimulated the brains 
of the drinkers so much, that it seemed as though a hundred 
magpies had been let loose. 

But the day itself ? It was hot and sultry. The sun shone 
hazily through the heated atmosphere, like a piece of polished 
metal which had been dulled by moisture. Edward was astir 
unusually early, and went about inspecting everything in all 
the rooms at least twenty times. Occasionally he would rush 
out to buy some forgotten article — such as a piece of scented 
soap, a lady’s comb, or some other indispensable article. 

As Miss Richmond was expected to come some time between 
three and five o’clock with her father, none of the guests 
arrived until three. 

When Agnes accompanied by Louis, made her appearance, 
she was surprised to find so many people there ahead of them. 
They were all old friends of Edward’s with whom he had 


62 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


played in different companies, and a jolly crowd they were. 
After she had shaken hands with Mrs. Hawley, who greeted 
her coldly, Edward led her forward and proudly announced 
that she was “ Miss Bonnard, who shortly would change her 
present name for that of Mrs. Hawley.” 

There was a shower of congratulations when he had finished 
speaking. The ladies kissed Agnes, and wished her joy ; the 
gentlemen professed their happiness in meeting her and com- 
plimented her as though she were a queen, then reseated them- 
selves and began to laugh and chat over some comical situa- 
tions in which they were sometimes placed. 

Agnes, who was not at at all sure that she liked this sort of 
thing, and who was thoroughly overwhelmed with these marks 
of attention, was glad to find herself at last at leisure to 
choose a seat in a quiet corner, where she sat pale and silent, 
looking at and listening to the others. Sometimes when her 
eyes rested on her black dress, she would grow sad, and think 
that she was doing wrong to be in such gay company so soon 
after her father’s death ; but the next moment she would be 
laughing in pure sympathy with the rest. 

The next arrival was Mr. Conrad Moore, and after he had 
been introduced to all who hadn’t known him before, and those 
proved to be only Louis and Agnes, the conversation went on. 
Mr. Moore had seated himself near Agnes and her brother, 
and they were growing quite talkative too. Every time Agnes 
lifted her eyes to glance round, she found Mrs. Hawley regard- 
ing her as though she were watching her every movement. 
This somewhat dampened Agnes’s ardor, and she was again 
becoming silent, when her interest was reawakened by the 
appearance of Dr. Wayne, accompanied by a superbly beauti- 
ful, woman. 

Agnes saw them greeted by Mrs. Hawley and Edward. The 
lady remained talking to Mrs. Hawley a few moments, but Dr. 
Wayne immediately turned about. He bowed to the ladies 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 63 

and gentlemen at the other end of the room, and then came 
toward his old friends. 

His face looked haggard and white, Agnes thought, as 
though he had passed a sleepless night, but he was quite pleas- 
ant, though somewhat constrained in his manner toward her. 
She wondered very much what could be the cause of this, and 
was anxious and worried ; so deeply indeed did her feelings 
affect her that she failed to notice the sudden, terrible pallor 
that had overspread her brother’s face. 

He was closely watching Mrs. Wayne, but not with the in- 
specting glance one generally bestows on a person on has heard 
much of but never met. On the contrary, it was a glance of 
recognition, for in Mrs. Wayne he saw the love of his youth ! 

He had always thought that were he ever to meet her again, 
his love for her would boil to a maddening passion which he 
would be powerless to restrain ; but now, although her beauty 
was intensified a hundred fold since last he had seen her, his 
heart had never beat so unconcernedly as it did then. 

He had often declared it a monstrous shame that Mrs. Wayne 
was so regardless of her husband’s happiness, and this indig- 
nation did not diminish when he now saw her. Rather did it 
increase. Had he met her, knowing she lived happily with 
her husband, or at least, respected him as he deserved to be 
respected, his love would have remained the same. But now 
he was utterly disgusted with the falsity of her character. 

In the meantime Edward Hawley began to introduce her ; 
first he conducted her toward the ladies and gentlemen at the 
upper end of the room, and then toward Bonnard, Agnes, and 
Moore. 

The moment Mrs. Wayne’s eyes fell upon Bonnard, she 
started back, her hand was pressed tremulously to her wildly 
beating heart ! Her face grew pale, her eyes expressed the 
happiness and pain of this unexpected meeting ; but the next 
moment she had regained her composure — regained it perhaps 
much sooner than she otherwise would have done, for Bon- 


64 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


nard’s face expressed nothing but calm politeness as he 
acknowledged the introduction, and she in turn returned it 
almost coldly. 

Edward alone understood the situation, as the reader must 
be already aware, but he betrayed no evidence whatever of the 
fact. 

Agnes personally, was quite charmed with Mrs. Wayne’s 
manner. She was so beautiful and so pleasant withal, that her 
impulsive heart very naturally warmed toward her ; but she 
felt unhappy for Dr. Wayne had very little to say to her, 
although he laughed and conversed gaily with the others. 
Agnes almost neglected Edward in watching the doctor. She 
listened when he spoke and watched him intently when she 
thought he didn’t notice her. But once during her observa- 
tions, Mrs. Hawley came and stood behind her chair, and 
stooping, whispered in her ear : 

^ He’s a very interesting man, my dear, isn’t he? Far 
more so than your intended husband, eh ? ” 

“ I know not what you mean,” said Agnes, flushing with 
annoyance and anger. 

“Oh, no, to be sure not. No, no ; of course you don’t.” 

She leaned so far over the girl that her hot breath fell upon 
her cheek, and then leering at her malignantly, stole softly 
away chuckling audibly. 

Agnes shivered. 

After this she tried hard to occupy her attention otherwise, 
but her eyes would wander to where Wayne sat, and then were 
instantly withdrawn when she detected the keen eyes of Mrs. 
Hawley watching her. 

Although Mrs. Wayne longed to speak to Bonnard, she knew 
not what to say — she was in fact afraid of him. Could this 
man who sat so silent and cold, be the one who used to be so 
warm and impetuous ? She did not think of the time that had 
elapsed since he had been her lover, or of changes that may 
have taken place since then, No thought of another woman 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 65 

having taken her place in his heart tormented her, she trusted 
too much in the charms of her own beauty to hold him as she 
held others. This vanity had often been the means of pre- 
venting her from becoming jealous, if she desired to be so with 
Dr. Wayne, who often paid very marked attention to women 
whom he found understood him. Had she been alone with 
Bonnard, she would have spoken of old times, and so gradu- 
ally warmed his heart again with love for her. She believed 
she had still the power to effect that object. But as they were 
not alone, and he chose to be obstinate and unsociable, she 
would show him that such conduct would have no effect upon 
her. She thereupon began a lively conversation with Moore, 
which gradually drifted into low whispers and ardent glances. 

Bonnard’s love seemed suddenly to have become a myth. 
For the first time in all those years, he looked searchingly into 
his heart, and tried to define the real depth of the wild affec- 
tion he had cherished so long. He thought of some words 
his father had once said which had become deeply impressed 
on his memory. At the time they were uttered he had not 
believed them true, but now he thought differently, and 
could almost fancy he heard his father gravely repeating them: 

“ Yes, my son, there is a wide difference between the love 
of the youth, and the love of the man. Youthful love, unless 
it is thoroughly gratified in every respect is sure to cause un- 
happiness. The love of a man is founded on a rock, not a 
sand-bank.” 

Looking into his heart now and judging from these words, 
he laid bare all its innermost recesses. Yes, this love was the 
love of a youth, formed under the infatuation of a pretty face, 
nothing else; there had been no sympathy of intellect or soul 
between them, or at least not on his part. He had not expe- 
rienced the love of his manhood yet, and consequently this 
love had reigned in his heart ever since, only to die when he 
had learned that its object was unworthy. It was a rude 

5 


66 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


awakening truly, but now that it had come, he realized what a 
shallow mockery it all had been. 

He was vaguely wondering what kind of a woman he might 
possibly fall in love with, and he had settled in his mind that 
she must worship him more than anyone or anything else 
in the world, when the laughing and talking going on about 
him, suddenly subsided. A cab had rattled up against the 
curb and a moment later there alighted from it a tall, thin old 
gentleman with a good-natured countenance, followed by a 
small, fairy-like figure, with the most beguiling little face 
imaginable. 

She was attired in a neat gray traveling dress that fitted to 
perfection, with gloves to match her gown, while on her head 
rested a tiny hat, the ribbons of which, fluttered with her 
every movement. The face beneath it was a very child-like 
one, with clustering curls of fair hair falling about it ; the 
gray eyes were large, bright, and full of roguery, and alto- 
gether, Miss Richmond was a very pretty young woman. 

She skipped on before her father up the stoop as though 
she were eager to see the relatives whom she had come to 
visit. Through the open door of the parlor, the guests 
could hear Edward open the door, then a noise followed as 
though some one had lost her balance, and then a very, very 
musical voice spoke : 

“ Oh, my goodness ! Why did you open the door so sud- 
denly ? I was leaning against it, and you caused me to 
fall ” 

“ Into my arms,” finished Edward, laughing. “You can 
thank Providence it was no worse, cousin.” 

“ Cousin ! ” exclaimed the young lady. “ You are Edward 
then ? But I might have known it, for you are just like 
father.” 

“Eh? what’s all this?” cried Mr. Richmond coming up 
behind her, after dismissing the driver of the cab. 

“Father, this young man is cousin Edward ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


67 


“What! my nephew?” cried the old gentleman interrupt- 
ing her. “My dear boy, I am delighted to see you; de- 
lighted, I assure you ! ” And he grasped Edward’s hand in 
such a tight grip that the young man winced with pain, though 
he managed to say : 

“ And I am glad to see yozt, sir ; both of you.” 

Then, with Estelle clinging to his arm, he led them to the 
parlor at the door of which Mrs. Hawley stood waiting to 
greet them. 

“My dear sister ! ” exclaimed Mr. Richmond as he held 
out his hand. 

“You are very welcome, Walter,” she returned, and any 
other man would have been offended at the way she spoke, 
her voice was so utterly indifferent ; but if her voice was in- 
different, her eyes certainly were not when they rested on her 
niece’s face. So keen a glance never was directed at human 
being before. But, if she had intended to greet her in the 
same indifferent way she had her brother, no one ever knew 
for it was never done. On the contrary when she turned to- 
ward Estelle that young lady did what no one else had ever 
ventured to do to Mrs. Hawley ; she threw her arms impuls- 
ively around her neck, and imprinted a kiss on those lips that 
had so often proclaimed her hatred of women. What fol- 
lowed almost took the breath away from those who witnessed 
it — it was such a surprise. Mrs. Hawley instead of repulsing 
the girl drew her closer and smiled down into her face. How 
the sight of this made Agnes’s heart ache ! 

“Dear Auntie, I am so glad to know you/’ whispered 
Estelle nestling closer, and laying her head on Mrs. Hawley’s 
breast. 

“ My dear, I hope you may always say that,” returned her 
aunt in a gratified tone. 

For the first time, Mrs. Hawley had been conquered by a 
woman. Yet it had all been done so quietly and discreetly 
that she was scarcely conscious of having yielded. 


68 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Mrs. Hawley had no intention however of sacrificing hei 
pet passion even in this one instance, but Estelle had com- 
pletely taken her by storm, and while it annoyed, it also 
pleased her. After all she was but human, and was as capable 
of kindliness as any one else, but she did not want to yield 
unless her love was boldly sought. That strange heart of hers 
capable of an intense hatred was equally capable of great af- 
fection. Had Agnes or any other woman been able to forget 
their dislike and dread of her, and taken her by storm as 
Estelle had done at a first meeting, she would undoubtedly 
have been equally submissive and kind. 

When Estelle had been introduced to Agnes by Edward, 
his sharp little cousin at once concluded from the way he 
spoke that his heart was in her keeping; so naturally enough 
she became interested, and when, later, they happened to be 
alone for a short time, she said : 

“You are affianced to Edward ? ” 

“Yes,” said Agnes, smiling, “ but how did you know that? 
He didn’t tell you, did he ? ” 

“No, I simply guessed it.” 

“Why, do we seem so very much in love?” questioned 
Agnes blushing. 

Estelle laughed. 

“ Oh, dear, no ! ” she replied. “ I can’t accuse you of ap- 
pearing so; but Edward ! o-oh 1 ” 

“ Is it really so bad ? ” 

“ Worse — much worse,” returned Estelle ; and then glanc- 
ing keenly at Agnes, she asked : “Is Dr. Wayne a relative of 
yours ? ” 

“No; he is only a friend. But why do you ask? Surely 
you don’t imagine there is a resemblance between us ? ” 

“ No, it isn’t that,” gravely answered her companion, “ but 
it is very strange. I can’t understand it.” 

“ Can’t understand it ! What do you mean ? ” 

“Oh, forgive me, please,” said Estelle, grasping her hands 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


6g 

and holding them tightly in her own, “ I don’t mean any 
harm; but, Agnes, don’t you think it is dangerous for you to 
have so handsome a man for a friend ? ” 

“Why should it be when I am engaged to Edward ? ” 

The question brought a smile to Estelle’s lips. 

“Why? Because, dear, he is superior to Edward, and 
young girls are foolish. I daresay, you think me a little idiot 
to speak thus, but I have seen so much trouble, the result of 
friendship between men and women, although to be sure, I 

have never experienced any, that ” 

“I quite understand you,” interposed Agnes, haughtily. 
“But your suspicions in this case have no foundation what- 
ever. Dr. Wayne is simply my friend, and whether he be su- 
perior to Edward or not makes no difference, for I love 
Edward.” 

“I see you are angry with me,” sadly said Estelle. “I 
know I had no right to speak as I did, but I meant no harm; 
and I am sorry. Won’t you forgive me ? ” 

Although tears of mortification and anger glistened in 
Agnes’s eyes, she pressed the girl’s hand warmly. 

“And you will be friends with me? Now, do say yes,” 
coaxed Estelle. “ Because I want to love you for Edward’s 
sake as well as your own.” 

Agnes acceded with a glad smile, and Estelle promised to 
come and see her on the morrow. 

Notwithstanding the amusements they had enjoyed, the day 
had been so very hot that no one was really comfortable, and 
even the evening brought no relief, for the air remained op- 
pressive. Not at star was visible in the clouded heavens, and 
in the distance there was from time to time many a flash of 
lightning. Before nine o’clock all the visitors had left Mrs. 
Hawley’s house, and four of them at least were sad or thought- 
ful. Mrs. Wayne and Bonnard were the thoughtful ones ; 
Agnes and Dr. Wayne were the sad. 

Mrs. Wayne was weaving plans so she might enjoy the 


10 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


society of Bonnard, and concluded that she would not go to 
the country, but remain at home and spend her time winning 
him back. Louis was thinking what a deserving thing it 
would be to let Mrs. Wayne imagine he was still in love with 
her, to, in fact, play the part he had done formerly in all sin- 
cerity, and later pay her back in her own coin, by repulsing 
her. As for Dr. Wayne his thoughts were wrapped up in 
Agnes, he thought of his wild love for her, and the bitter cir- 
cumstances which prevented him from divulging it. And 
Agnes herself, poor girl ! what wild petitions she uttered as she 
knelt by her bedside that night. She was scarcely conscious 
of what she said, letting her heart speak its torturing aches 
instead of her brain framing them. 

Fitful flashes of lightning lit up the darkness of her room, 
and when it did so, she saw with startling distinctness, the 
picture of Edward Hawley hanging against the wall opposite 
her. The sight of it caused her to cower down in her bed as 
though some uncanny object had been revealed, and shutting 
her eyes tightly, she did not look again, but went to sleep. 


CHAPTER X. 

AN EXPLANATION, AND ITS RESULTS. 

“Well, cousin, haven’t you a secret to tell me?” said 
Estelle, joining Edward the following morning in the neglected 
garden, while her father and Mrs. Hawley were talking over 
family affairs in the parlor. 

Edward glanced up from the book he was reading. His eyes 
traveled over his cousin’s figure, and he saw what looked to 
him like a pale-blue sky with white clouds. Estelle, in fact, 
wore a pale- blue gown trimmed with soft white lace. She was 
exceedingly pretty. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks 
flushed, her curls blowing about her face in the breeze. When 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT yi 

Edward had spent at least two minutes inspecting her, she im- 
patiently said : 

“Well, have you lost your tongue, or don’t you mean to 
tell me about it ? ” 

“Lord bless my soul!” he cried, without heeding her 
question. “ You look sweet enough to — to — ” 

“Well?” 

“You won’t be angry I hope? Well, you look sweet 
enough to kiss . 11 

He uttered the last word as though it were the result of an 
explosion. Then he retreated a few steps to see the effect it 
had made upon his cousin. She pretended to be very angry, 
and returned with a toss of her head that made all her curls 
fairly dance. 

“ Well, that’s like your impudence, sir ! I’d like to see you 
or any one else try to kiss me / Just as though my kisses were 
to be got for nothing ! ” 

“If I thought you wouldn’t scream loud enough to arouse 
the neighbors, and if you wouldn’t scratch so as to make a cur- 
iosity of me, I might be tempted to take one? ” 

“ Indeed now, but would you ? Well, just you dare? ” 

And rolling up the sleeves of her dress, and doubling her 
fists, she laughingly motioned him to come on. 

“ You dare me, eh ? ” cried Hawley valiantly. “ I’m not 
afraid ; as a proof thereof — here goes ! ” 

And suddenly seizing her in his arms, he attempted to raise 
her laughing face to his. But Estelle was quite equal to the 
occasion. Her hands and head were constantly in motion as 
she tried to escape from him. The noise of their scuffling 
brought her father and aunt to the window ; Mr. Richmond 
broke into a loud “ haw, haw ! ” and nudged his sister and 
said that the sight of them recalled his own youth. 

Estelle, having dodged her head under one of Edward’s 
arms, was vainly endeavoring to release herself when she saw 
her aunt. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 


7 * 

“ Oh, please, auntie,” she pleaded, “ do make this horrid 
boy behave himself.” 

But Mrs. Hawley said she wouldn’t interfere, and that 
Estelle must fight her own battles. But there was a smile of 
amusement on her lips nevertheless, as she turned away. 

Trembling with the excitement of her struggles to free her- 
self, and at the same time endeavoring to prevent Edward from 
kissing her, Estelle’s strength was rapidly giving out. 

“ Ah, please let me go, won’t you? Ah, there’s a dear fel- 
low ! ” she coaxingly went on. 

“ I must first have my reward, cousin,” was the young man’s 
reply. 

“ Well, then, for goodness sake, take it and let me go ! ” 
she cried, lifting her face of her own accord. When he had 
teasingly kissed her half a dozen times, he released her. 

“You’re a bear!” she exclaimed. “ You’re the meanest 
fellow I’ve ever met ! I don’t like you in the least ! ” 

“ Now, CQusin, don’t say hard things ; you know you don’t 
mean them,” was Edward’s reply, his eyes full of laughter 
which only aroused her ire the more. 

“But I do mean them! Here you’ve gone and torn my 
dress, and tumbled my hair, and ” 

“ And here am I with hands scratched, my collar all 
twisted out of shape, and perspiring like a bull — ” 

Unable longer to repress the merriment they felt, both 
laughed and soon were in the best of humor. 

“Well, don’t you intend to tell me about Agnes ?” said 
Estelle somewhat later. 

“There’s nothing to tell, except that we love each other, 
and I am the happiest man in the world for having won her. 
Don’t you think I ought to be proud, Essie ? Won’t you con- 
gratulate me ? ” 

Estelle was thoughtful and did not answer. 

“ Don’t you like Agnes? ” questioned Edward in surprise. 

“ Like her ! yes, indeed I do,” warmly replied his cousin. 




The Midnight elopement. 


\ 


1% 

u She is so gentle and amiable; indeed, cousin, I do congrat- 
ulate you if you are quite sure you possess her heart as well as 
her promise ? ” 

“ Thank you, Essie; yes, I am quite sure of her love, and 
the only thing that prevents our marriage is a queer idea Agnes 
has that she must win mother’s love first. Of course it’s very 
foolish, but still she insists trying.” 

Estelle opened her eyes in astonishment. 

“Why, how queer!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think I 
should consider the hatred of a mother-in-law an obstacle to 
my marriage if I loved a man. But then Agnes is so good 
and noble.” 

“Yes, that’s it exactly; so good and noble ! yet my mother 
cannot appreciate her,” sighed the young man regretfully. 

“ I’m afraid she never will,” and Estelle clasped Edward’s 
hand in her deep sympathy for him. 

“I’m afraid that of her own accord she certainly will not. 
But you, Essie, have some influence ; couldn’t you try to get 
her to like Agnes ? ” 

“ Try I certainly shall ; but whether she’ll ever give a will- 
ing consent to your marriage with Agnes, I doubt very much. 
I was speaking to her about it this morning, and she flew into 
such a rage I was actually frightened.” 

“ What did she say ? ” 

Estelle hesitated ; but Edward impatiently begged her not 
to consider whether it would give him pain, but speak out at 
once. Accordingly she said : 

“ She vowed she never would assist you in any way if you 
married Agnes ; cut off the allowance you are enjoying, and 
in fact leave you penniless at her death.” 

. “What!” he cried, with blanched face and trembling 
voice, “can this be possible? Would she, my mother, who 
has always been kind to me, mar my future because of a 
foolish prejudice- against the girl I love? Oh, it is impossi- 
ble ! ” 


74 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

“ I’m so sorry ; but surely you don’t mean to let this affect 
your feelings toward Agnes? ” 

“No, cousin, no; if I did, I should be unworthy of her, 
and deserve that glance of scorn you cast on me a minute ago. 
Poor little Agnes ! It is for her sake alone that I should re- 
gret the loss of money. I see now that our marriage, instead 
of coming off within a year, must be delayed longer ; perhaps 
for two or three years, for I must give her a home as good as 
the one she now occupies.” 

Calm as his voice had at first been, it faltered toward the 
end and he put his hand over his face to hide his emotion. 
Estelle remained silent, but linking her arm in his she drew 
him toward the house. When they were in the hall, she laid 
her hands on his shoulders and said : 

“Cousin, I am proud of you for speaking as you did. 
Agnes, if she loves you will willingly wait until you are able 
to marry her. But go now and get your coat and hat while I 
dress, fori want you to take me to see her.” 

And giving him a bear-like hug, she ran up-stairs to her 
room, leaving him standing both pleased and confused. 

When they were started on their intended visit, Edward 
made his cousin promise not to tell Agnes about what his 
mother had said, because he argued : 

“ If she knew, she would never marry me, and so foolishly 
ruin the happiness of us both.” 

Poor fellow ! so confident was he of her love he naturally 
thought she would be made unhappy too ! 

That same morning Louis Bonnard received a note written 
in a dainty, lady-like hand which read : 

“ Will you grant me an interview ? If so, meet me at io o’clock at the 
De Kalb Avenue and Cumberland Street entrance to Fort Greene, and 
oblige, 

“ Harriet Wayne.” 

Bonnard laughed long and heartily when he had read this ; 
he had not expected it. It seemed incredible that a woman 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


7 5 

should humiliate herself so much as to write to a man without 
knowing whether he would consent to her proposition. But 
he made his preparations to meet her nevertheless. He at- 
tired himself in his best suit of clothes, fussed over the ar- 
rangement of his hair and moustache, perfumed his handker- 
chief, put his diamond ring, that he had not worn since his 
father’s death, on his finger ; and finally cane in hand, look- 
ing handsome and well dressed, he left the house. 

Cool and collected as he invariably was, he still grew some- 
what nervous when he drew near the place of meeting. After 
all this might result seriously ! But he did not turn back. 

When he came to the entrance of the park, he espied Mrs. 
Wayne sitting on the nearest bench to the gate. A feeling 
akin to the old passion rushed through him at the sight of her, 
and yet, it was not the same, for his senses alone were stirred. 
Last night she had not awakened one thrill of rapture, but 
now as she sat there alone expectantly waiting, disclosing 
nothing in her manner of the voluptuousness so nauseating to 
him, he saw only her beauty and felt a deep admiration for 
her. 

Their greeting was a strange one. They scarcely knew 
whether to shake hands or not, and Bonnard was conscious 
of looking ridiculous as he stood with his hat and cane in one 
hand, while he said very meekly : “ How do you do ? ” Mrs. 
Wayne, too. seemed to be at a loss for words, for she merely 
bowed. Both remained silent for a while then she quietly and 
s idly remarked : 

“ We met as strangers last night.” 

He did not answer; he did not trust himself to speak. 

“ Is all the past,” she went on, looking beseechingly at him, 
“of no consequence to you now? Have you forgotten that 
you said once that you loved me? Once! no, a hundred 
times ! ” 

“Forgotten!” he fiercely returned. “No; I have not ! 
had I done so my life these many years would have been a 


the Midnight elopement. 


76 

thousand times happier ! But you ? What have you, who 
promised to be my wife, to say for yourself? " 

“ Oh, don’t speak so harshly," she entreated. “ Indeed if 
you knew how I have suffered you would not be so unkind. I 
am so unhappy ; sometimes I long to go back to the dear old 
place where we learned to love each other, to live there and 
dream over how happy I might have been, and forget the 
misery — ” 

“You have yourself created," he scornfully interrupted. 
“Have you no feeling whatever for other people’s sorrows? 
Can you bear to see the husband who is so kind and indulgent, 
suffer through your cruel neglect and selfishness ? Oh, it is 
inhuman ! Did I not hate you for the wrong you have done 
myself. I should hate you for your cruelty to him whom I 
love almost as a brother ! ’ ’ 

He forgot that he had intended to pretend that he still loved 
her, but allowed his feelings to get the better of him. 

“ Oh, tell me you didn’t mean what you said ! Tell me 
that you don’t hate me ! " she piteously cried. 

“ You have ruined his life and mine; how can you expect 
me to feel otherwise toward you ? " he returned angrily. 

“But I have ruined my own life as well, and therefore 
deserve only your pity. If you knew how I struggled against 
the temptations to be false to you, you would deal more gen- 
erously with me. Let me place my position before you. A 
year before I had met you I was visiting an old schoolmate 
who was ill. The doctor who attended her was wealthy and 
handsome; I determined to try and win him ; the result of 
that decision was, when I went back to attend my school, I 
had promised to become his wife — ’’ 

“ Promised to become his wife ! ’’ repeated Bonnard inter- 
rupting her. “You never told me of this then ; but I under- 
stand. You wanted to have the satisfaction of having me 
declare my love, so that you might boast of it." 

His voice was full of bitter reproach and indignation. She 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


77 


leaned nearer him, she laid her hand upon his; but he turned 
from her, he shook her hand off as though it had been the 
touch of a viper. 

“ Do not wrong me with such a thought, I beg of you,'’ she 
huskily said. “ Indeed, I never intended such a thing. Oh, 
have pity on me ! My punishment has been so terrible — my 
sin was really small ! ” 

“ Small ! ” came wrathfully from Bonnard’s lips. “ Was it 
nothing to blast my happiness ? ” 

“ But you don’t know how I loved you through all these 
years ; yearned for your love in return,” Mrs. Wayne pleaded 
with tears in her eyes. 

“ God ! is it thus you speak when once you cast me aside as 
worthless? Oh, speak not to me of your yearning for my 
love ! I have nothing to give in return but scorn ! ” 

“ Listen to me ! only listen while I explain — then judge of 
me as you will. When I promised to wait for you, God knows 
I sincerely meant what I said. But as the days went by, and 
I fancied myself as your wife, I could not help but consider 
the miserable contrast between being a poor man’s wife, and 
envied by many were I to marry Dr. Wayne. Hate me for my 
worldliness if you will ; you cannot hate me worse than I hate 
myself. But have pity on me for the suffering I have 
endured ! ” 

Bonnard remained silent and she went on : 

“ I have never ceased to reproach myself for my miserable 
folly nor shall I ever do so. Oh, Louis, is the wrong I 
have done you utterly unpardonable ! Can you never forgive 
me?” 

He raised his eyes slowly and looked at her. Yes she was 
very beautiful and her distress added to her charms. He 
could not find it in his heart to be harsh, with her tear- 
dimmed eyes looking so imploringly at him, and her lips 
quivering. 

“ Yes,” he at length gently said, “ I forgive you ! ” 


78 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


“ Can I hope for nothing more? ” she faltered. 

“ Hush ! ” he commanded sternly. “Do not ask me to 
love you. You forget that there is a tie ; and even were you 
free I could never trust you again — I can never forget the 
past, although I do forgive you for what you have done.” 

They spoke of other things then; and gradually Bonnard 
pointed out the duty she owed to her husband. How she 
would be happier were she kinder and more considerate to 
him. 

All this, which she would have deemed an insult coming 
from anyone else, she listened to from him, and she said she 
would try to be good if it would please him. 

“But,” he gravely interrupted, “I don’t want you to do 
it to please me , I want you to do it because it is right.” 

And to satisfy him she said she would do it for that very 
reason. Then they spoke of themselves. She said that she 
would be happier now that she knew she could sometimes see 
him, while he, on his part, said he would be pleased to be her 
friend at all times. 

When they parted, Bonnard thought seriously over their 
conversation and concluded that he had done something 
toward making Dr. Wayne’s life happier ; Mrs. Wayne believed 
Bonnard still loved her however, but that his honorable feelings 
prevented him from saying so. 

Vain and shallow as the woman was, she was still to be 
pitied ! Truly, the follies of our youth are often the means 
of cursing our whole existence ! 


CHAPTER XI. 

CHANGED, CHANGED, FOREVER ! 

Agnes Bonnard reflected long and sadly over the situation 
in which she now found herself. 

Why had she ever met Dr. Wayne ? Before he had crossed 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


7 9 


her path she had been perfectly happy, while now she felt 
degraded in her own eyes. In love with a man who was mar- 
ried ! She wept with shame at the thought. And why was 
she in love with him ? Estelle had said he was superior to 
Edward ; why ? Because he happened to have a good pro- 
fession, was grave and quiet, and was unhappy; and because 
he possessed in fact one or two mental qualities which she had 
admired. Did these things make him superior to one so full 
of love for her, so good natured, and noble, although to be 
sure he did act foolishly at times? Was he a better man 
because he happened to be more intelligent ? Was intellect 
then greater and more precious than a loving heart ? No; no ! 
but the two combined was the making of a grand soul ; the one 
to discern, the other to feel, and Dr. Wayne possessed both. 
She had found in him her ideal of manhood, but he was not 
hers on whom to lavish the worship of her passionate nature; 
at least not openly. In secret she might dream over the hap- 
piness of having such a companion ! Dearly as she thought 
she had loved Edward Hawley, she had always found some- 
thing wanting in him — a lack of discernment and indeed many 
other qualities, all of which she possessed a more intelligent 
appreciation of herself. She had never admitted to anyone, 
not even to herself, that she believed she was superior to 
Edward. She had trampled all such thoughts under foot, had 
clothed him in fact with all the attributes of a hero. But she 
had changed since she knew Dr. Wayne; slowly to be sure the 
knowledge had come, but still she had changed. 

Changed, changed forever ! There was no power on earth 
that could make her heart return to its old allegiance — no 
power strong enough to tear out the new love ! Her affection 
for Edward was gone. Gone ! but, oh ! saddest of all was 
the thought that the old love had only just perished, and in 
its place there already lived a nobler idol ! 

Yes ; but noble as this new idol was, the old affection had 
been very strong. She had been innocently happy ; while 


8 o 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


now a world of sadness and misery loomed up in her future. 
She was not conceited, but she did feel that she, and she 
alone, was the one woman in all the world capable of making 
Dr. Wayne happy. He had told her many a time in his 
grave, quiet way that “ she alone soothed and gave him peace- 
ful joy — that she was the only woman who made him fell al- 
most contented with what fate might have in store so long as 
he retained her for his friend and comforter ! ” 

They were strange words, full of a strange sweetness ! 
But fate had decreed that dearly as they might feel toward 
each other, they would still be as far apart as though oceans 
rolled between them. 

It was cruel enough to know she never could possess the 
heart of Dr. Wayne, but to think that she must marry Edward 
was cruder still. Had Dr. Wayne been unmarried she would 
have broken with Edward, in the hope that the doctor would 
love her ; but under the circumstances, she believed she could 
not do anything more generous and honorable than to remain 
true to Hawley, never letting him know by word or act that 
she had changed in her heart toward him. Gladly would she 
have welcomed an obstacle in the way to prevent their mar- 
riage. Very earnestly indeed did she wish that ! As for her- 
self, of course she would never be happy — that were utterly 
impossible now ! 

Having thus concluded, she resolved to cease thinking fur- 
ther on the subject. When in the midst of kneading dough 
for bread the door-bell rang. What was her surprise and dis- 
may (for her sleeves were rolled up above the elbows, and her 
hands and arms were covered with flour, while a big, linen 
apron with a large bib prevented her dress from being soiled) 
to see, five minutes later standing in the doorway of the 
kitchen that foolish Edward and his pretty little cousin, all 
smiles and dimples. 

“Ha — ha!" gaily cried Hawley. “We’ve caught you, 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


8l 


have we ? No need to apologize however. Aggie, my dear, 
I’ve brought Essie to see you.” 

“I’m sure I am very glad to see you both,” said Agnes, 
smiling, “ although I did not expect you to come so early.” 
And then turning to Edward she said with mock severity : 
“Why didn’t you stay up-stairs instead of bringing your 
cousin down here? ” 

Before he had time to answer, Estelle interrupted : 

“ I am sorry if I have displeased or inconvenienced you, 
Agnes, but this fellow has- been boasting so much of your 
cooking and housekeeping that I wanted to assure myself that 
it was really so. I am now satisfied that such is the fact, so 
therefore don’t let us interrupt you, but finish your work.” 

And having uttered this explanation and apology, Estelle 
seated herself and proceeded to watch Agnes with admiring 
eyes. 

“Since that is the cause of your early visit,” returned 
Agnes, laughing, “I am glad you came, because I always 
want to uphold my character as a good cook ; I assure you, 
I am proud to know that I can keep house. The effects of 
your journey yesterday have quite left you, I see,” she went on, 
“observing with admiration the dainty beauty of Estelle’s face. 

“Oh, yes, I thank you,” Estelle replied. “ But where is 
your brother? I hope our coming hasn’t frightened him away? 
Father, you know,” she proceeded to explain, “ always dis- 
appears at the sound of the door-bell, so I thought perhaps 
your brother may have the same peculiar trait.” 

“Oh, dear, no,” Agnes assured her, “he went away quite 
early this morning.” 

“Oh!” said Estelle as though satisfied with Agne’s ex- 
planation ; but some of the brightness left her eyes, and she 
relapsed suddenly into silence. 

Miss Richmond, be it understood, was a young lady who 
liked to have gentlemen pay her attentions, and Louis Bon- 
6 


82 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


liard was handsome and entertaining ; consequently she was 
sorry he was not present. 

Like the majority of young ladies, Agnes and Estelle hav- 
ing begun a pleasant chat found it rather a hard matter to end 
it ; Estelle, who had declared positively when Agnes had asked 
her to remove her hat, that she and Edward only intended to 
remain a few minutes and it would be unnecessary to take it 
off, seemed loath to go as the minutes flitted swiftly by. Per- 
haps she expected Mr. Bonnard to return every moment, and 
so lingered with the expectation of seeing him. At length 
however, as they were having a pleasant time, Agnes declared 
that if they would remain until after dinner, she, and perhaps 
her brother too, if he returned, would accompany them to the 
park. Of course both Edward, and his cousin were delighted 
with this proposition. 

While Agnes was setting the table and talking to Edward, 
and Miss Estelle amusing herself with “ Snow-ball ” a pretty 
little kitten which had gained its sobriquet from the whiteness 
of its fur, the door of the dining-room softly opened, and dis- 
closed Louis standing outside, himself unseen — viewing them 
with a most amused expression. His amusement indeed was 
scarcely to be wondered at ; for sitting on the floor, alternately 
caressing and tormenting the kitten, was Estelle, and every 
word she spoke came distinctly to his ears. 

“ Killing it with your caresses, eh, Miss Estelle ? ” Bonnard 
said at last as he quietly walked into the room. 

Up jumped the girl confusedly ; the kitten fell from her 
arms and scudded through the open door like a flash ; Estelle 
uttered a prolonged “ oh-h ! ” in her dismay at being caught 
in such a position by Louis, and pushing back the hair from 
her burning face and eyes, she looked at him very demurely. 

“A perfect child ! ” was the young man’s mental comment 
as he shook hands with her. He then turned to Edward and 
having greeted him and been made acquainted with their in- 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 83 

tended trip, he readily and with much delight consented to go 
with them. 

When they set out, Louis understanding the glance Edward 
had bestowed toward his cousin, took his place at her side, and 
from the time they started until they returned, he was her con- 
stant companion. At first he found it rather tiresome talking 
to her, she seemed so childish ; but when she had recovered 
from her shyness he really marveled at the amount of knowl- 
edge stored away in that pretty little head. She told him 
many amusing stories, gave intelligent opinions on various sub- 
jects, and her dancing, laughing eyes so often arrested his 
attention that he was really bewildered ; and though he con- 
sidered it an abomination in other women, he seemed thor- 
oughly unconscious of her loquacity. He rather liked to hear 
her sweet, bird-like voice ; indeed taken altogether she was a 
most engaging, loving, little creature. 

After this first day in her company, as a matter to be ex- 
pected, many others followed. Estelle came to see Agnes 
under a hundred different pretexts, while Louis called quite as 
often at Mrs. Hawley’s. Sometimes he called to take Estelle 
for a walk, or to spend an hour or two with her at home. Mrs. 
Hawley treated him graciously at such times, and old Mr. 
Richmond regarded him with very great favor, and evidently 
liked to see him in his daughter’s society. 

Naturally enough Mr. Bonnard was flattered ; but he was 
charmed, too, for he could not resist the spell of seeing a fair 
young cheek flush, and bright eyes grow brighter at his 
coming. So gradually when he was alone, he found himself 
thinking over her gay chatter and dancing eyes, with tender 
thoughts. He spoke constantly to Agnes of her ; and she, 
understanding and sympathizing with him, always listened and 
smoothed over the rough edges as they presented themselves. 
For instance : Louis said that when he thought of marrying he 
would not dare to seek a wife better off in a wordly sense than 
Jpmself — as Estelle unfortunately happened to be. Agnes 


8 4 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


pointed out to him in her persuading, gentle way, that he, 
good and honorable, and perfectly capable of supporting a wife 
in fairly good style, was as fine a type of manhood as any 
young lady could wish for. He believed her, and so con- 
tinued paying attentions to Estelle until it was looked upon as 
settled that she would ultimately become his wife. 

Yet there was one drawback. 

Although Mrs. Wayne had written many times to Bonnard 
that at such a time on such a day she would be at home and 
pleased to see him, he had politely but firmly refused to visit 
her. But Harriet was not a woman to be thus coolly neglected. 
She got up a warm friendship with Agnes, and visiting her 
often she gained her object by seeing Louis frequently. Dis- 
regarding Estelle as though she were a child, she exerted every 
art in her power to fascinate the young man, and actually suc- 
ceeded in so doing at least while in his presence. Of course 
he blindly fell into her net, and so attentive was he to her that 
Mrs. Wayne really believed he still loved her. When she 
clasped his hand and looked at him with her eyes full of a 
sweet tenderness, he was thrilled to the very core of his being, 
and the old passion once more seemed to revive and reassert 
itself. 

Estelle, of course, with the keen eyes of jealousy and love 
observed all this, and she hated Mrs. Wayne with a deep 
relentless hatred, sparing herself no pains to show it openly. 
She suffered deeply too, for that she loved Louis Bonnard was 
an unquestioned fact, although, poor child ! in her suffering 
and humiliation she vainly tried to conceal her affection from 
him. 

In Agnes she found a sweet sympathizer ; for Agnes, too, 
hated Mrs. Wayne now ; her reason was partly because that 
“beautiful, fascinating fiend , ” as Estelle had termed her, was 
the means of creating discord in the lives of her brother and 
friend, and partly because Mrs. Wayne was the object that pre- 
vented herself from realizing happiness. But Bonnard was not 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 85 

feally in love with Mrs. Wayne, as he firmly declared when 
Agnes remonstrated with him for his conduct ; but the old 
desire to have some sort of revenge upon her was strong within 
him. To pretend he was in love with her was an easy matter, 
when he had Estelle’s sweet, innocent, counter-charms so 
deeply engraven on his heart, besides it would be an enjoyable 
revenge to see Mrs. Wayne humiliated as she deserved to be. 

As for Harriet herself the promise she had made Bonnard to 
try and do her duty by her husband, was of course never kept. 
On the contrary the breach between them had simply widened. 

Dr. Wayne kept more to himself now than he had ever done. 
He had wondered very much at his wife’s sudden determina- 
tion to remain in town, but soon attributed the cause to the 
coming back of Moore, who was constantly in her society; 
yet their friendship was friendship and nothing more, for 
although all sense of duty and respect for her husband was dead 
within her, she still craved the satisfaction at least of not letting 
the world speak contemptuously of her. But on the other 
hand her affection for Bonnard was so great that she would 
have sacrificed home, friends, wealth, ay, even her salvation, 
had he but asked her to fly with him. 

Dr. Wayne often visited the little house in Willow Street 
whose inmates he loved so dearly, but Agnes was rarely alone 
now, and so he had no chance to speak confidentially to her. 
His heart was sorrowful and heavy indeed, which told plainly 
on his face ; and she, who loved him as though he were the 
very breath of her life, observing all his suffering, suffered in 
silence with him. She struggled hard against her passion and 
tried to be true to Edward in thought as well as in deed ; but 
she struggled against it in vain, for how could she be true 
when she saw his sad face, and her tender heart yearned to 
comfort him. 

“ Yes, you will suffer ; passionate natures like yours always 
do, and often you will long for death to release your over- 
burdened heart.'’ 


$6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


How well remembered were those words ; but he who had 
spoken them, to whom she had been wont to lay bare every 
anguished thought she had ever known, always sure of receiv- 
ing kindly advice and comfort, was no more ! The kind 
father, friend, and companion was gone, and with him had 
departed the only sympathizer who had ever understood her ! 
Gone, gone ! She could only repeat the words with sad yearn- 
ing, and wish, oh, so fervently, that she were at rest with him ! 


CHAPTER XII. 

GOOD-BY. 

The summer passed away and was replaced with the beauties 
of the Autumn, when, 

“ All the world is warm and glowing 
With the vivid gold and green, 

And the mottled brown and crimson 
Of the autumn’s regal sheen, 

And the air is filled with splendor. 

Music lading every breeze, 

Caught from rustling gold-edged banners, 

Fluttering on the forest trees. 

“ The hills are robed in softest colors, 

Wrapped in filmy, purple mist, 

The vales are rosy-hued and golden, 

As downy peach by sun’s rays kissed. 

Royal robed purple astors 

By the wayside sway and nod 
With the crimson tufts of sumach 
And the flaunting goldenrod. 

“ All the orchard trees are bending 
With their wealth of red and gold, 

Giving more abundant fruitage 
Than the flowers of spring foretold.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


87 


With the arrival of autumn, work seems to thrive — work 
that had been suspended in the hot, suffocating days of 
summer. 

We launch now on a new voyage replete with pleasant 
prospects, which lend new ambition and added strength to our 
daily tasks. 

Edward Hawley began to prepare for a season on the road, 
actuated by a desire to accumulate sufficient money to marry 
Agnes. His departure was set for the 28th of October, and 
on the morning of that day he sought his mother in the par- 
lor. This apartment was so changed that it could barely be 
recognized as the same room — for Estelle had cajoled her aunt 
into refurnishing it, so that it was now pleasant and genial 
with color and warmth. The appearance of the house in a 
general way also much improved. The grass in the garden 
had been cut and was smooth as velvet ; the vines had been 
twined on strings and woodwork, the bushes trimmed, so that 
everything was in perfect harmony and taste. The windows 
too, were kept open to let in the sunshine and air, and once 
more the house gave passers-by the impression that it was 
occupied. 

As Edward entered the parlor, his mother, who was sitting 
by the window busily knitting, glanced up for a moment, but 
having ascertained who it was, her $yes returned to her work. 
Notwithstanding this seeming indifference, Edward, with lips 
compressed, seated himself near her and having cleared his 
throat with a preparatory “ahem/' to try and make her look 
up — which he failed to do — said : 

“ Mother, as you are already aware, I am going away for 
six months. It is not a very long time, to be sure, but 
many things might happen meanwhile — you or I might die, 
for instance.” The last clause came out awkward and tim- 
orously. 

He paused in an uncertain way and waited for a reply. For 
some moments Mrs. Hawley did not speak or even raise her 


88 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


eyes. Her whole attention seemed ri vetted on her knitting. 
Faster and faster the needles flew in and out amongst the 
meshes of stitches ; then suddenly her hands fell into her lap, 
and leaning toward him she unconcernedly returned : 

“ You, Edward, have lived to be twenty-five ; I to be double 
that age. In all probability we shall live six or eight or more 
months longer. But you have something further to say to me 
if I mistake not,” she continued searchingly. “ What is it? 
A question of money?” 

“ Yes, mother,” was his reply, “ I am your only child, and 
as such we each owe a duty to the other. If I have been a 
foolish son, I have certainly not been a bad one ; I have al- 
ways tried to do what was right. I have followed your advice 
in most things, often against my own judgment. The only 
time I have failed to obey you was in regard to Agnes, and 
then you were manifestly unjust ! I cannot sacrifice my prin- 
ciples of right merely because of your prejudice against women, 
and especially against Agnes. Forgive me, mother, if I speak 
too plainly, but I cannot help it ; I cannot give up the girl I 
love no matter what the outcome may be ! ” 

“Ay,” cried Mrs. Hawley, her eyes blazing vindictively, 
and her fingers twitching, “you have need indeed to ask my 

forgiveness. Oh, the ingratitude of children ! 

This girl you say is first in your- affections ; you think she 
loves you, but time will prove her to be false ! ” 

“ Mother, you are saying this to frighten me because I have 
offended you ; but I do not believe your words will come true. 
If I thought Agnes would be false, I should wish I had died 
before the knowledge came to me.” 

His voice trembled ; he buried his face in his hands as he 
ceased speaking, but no relenting expression came into his 
mother’s eyes ; she went on with her work as though she were 
alone in the room. In a few minutes Edward looked up, and 
speaking quite calmly and seriously, said : 

“When people go away, mother, their friends generally are 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


89 

kind, they forget any little differences which may have existed, 
and part as friends. We will soon part, mother, and although 
the separation may not be for long, I should like to know that I 
am going away still as dear to you as I have hitherto been. 
Are you angry with me?” 

“ Angry? ” she said in a strangely softened tone, touching 
his face with one hand as he leaned nearer her. “Angry! 
Ah, boy, if you but know how dear you are to me ! Angry ! 
no indeed ; but disappointed, and terribly.” 

“Disappointed? Ah, mother, do not speak thus ! Do not 
make me unhappy.” 

“ My poor Edward ! A mother’s eyes are wise and keen — 
you m$y trust her for that. Yes, where the child looks upon 
the object of its devotion through the blindness of love, the 
mother discerns by instinct ; and my instinct, Edward, tells me 
clearly that Agnes Bonnard does not love you.” 

“Oh, I cannot believe it; I cannot believe it ! ” the young 
man almost moaned. 

"“Well, time will prove that I am right,” his mother said 
with a deep sigh, then quickly added in her old, fierce way: 
“ Marry her if you will ; but, as surely as you do, you forfeit 
all rights to my property at my death, and I will have no more 
affection for you as long as I live ! ” 

“Your words, mother, are stern and unjust; but though 
you threatened me with greater loss, I should still be true to 
what my heart dictates. I see I have made a mistake in speak- 
ing on this subject, but I will never refer to it again.” 

And very quietly and sorrowfully he left the room. 

“The foolish boy!” commented his mother as the door 
closed behind him. “Right well ought he know that I will 
never deprive him of one cent of what is lawfully and justly 
his, no matter what he may do ; but I only wish I could get 
him out of that girl’s toils. Oh, how I hate her ! and no 
wonder for just such a woman wrecked my life, and she will 
wreck my son’s ! ” 


go 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


When Edward left his mother’s presence, he went straight- 
way to his cousin’s room. Estelle was sitting by the window 
rocking herself and thinking dreamily. She started up as 
Edward entered, and asked with deep concern : 

“ Well, cousin, what did she say? ” 

“Say?” repeated the young man huskily : “That which 
I knew she would say before I even spoke to her. She re- 
fuses ever to consent to my marriage; and the penalty, if I 
disobey her, is the same she told you of several months 
ago.” 

“ How terribly cruel ! ” exclaimed Estelle as she pityingly 
caressed his hands, the tears filling her eyes as she did so. 

Soon Edward left her to go and say a last “ good-by ” to 
Agnes. When he had gone she locked the door of her room, 
and seating herself in her rocker, indulged in a fit of hysteri- 
cal weeping, for the similarity in their love troubles had made 
her inexpressibly sad and miserable. 

The past few months had produced a great change in poor 
Estelle’s appearance. Her cheeks were no longer rosy and 
she no longer romped about like the happy child she had been, 
for the uncertainty of Bonnard’s attentions was worrying her. 
True, he did look lovingly at her and say pleasant things, and 
ask her out to walk and take her to church and places of 
amusement ; but then he was quite as attentive to Mrs. 
Wayne. Yes, this uncertainty was changing her perceptibly ; 
she was more submissive and womanly now, but she was also 
sadder. 

Agnes, who had been watching for Edward’s coming, 
opened the door as he was about to ring the bell. 

She greeted him with a pensive smile, and almost lost sight 
of the fact that she loved Dr. Wayne in thinking of the coming 
parting with one whom she esteemed so highly and who loved 
her so dearly. 

“My darling,” Edward gently said, when the time drew 


The m lb night elopement. 91 

near for him to leave. “ You will always remain true to me, 
will you not?” 

“ Always, always,” she assured him as she clung to him, 
kneeling at his feel, crushed with sorrow. He patted and 
smoothed her hair, and for some minutes neither of them 
spoke. Then rising, he lifted her to her feet, and clasped 
her to his heart — kissing her lips, brow, and hair, sadly, pas- 
sionately, tenderly, more as though their parting were eternal 
instead of being the separation of a few months. 

“Dearest,” he at length said, his voice trembling, “you 
must try to forget the unhappiness of this parting ; think 
rather of our re-union and of all the joy in store for us.” 

Her only answer was a burst of tears and a pleading de- 
sire that “ he would not reason with her.” But gradually she 
grew calmer and listened while he tried to speak cheerfully of 
the interval between that time and their re-union. He would 
write her long letters, he said, and tell her all about what he 
would see and feel and it would seem as though there was only 
a wall between them, and they were talking to each other. 

“ And now, dearest,” he concluded, “ I must indeed leave 
you. Try and be brave, my poor, little girl ; for believe me, 
this parting is as painful to me as to you.” 

But though she did not weep again, she clung to him. 

A moment later, however, she put his arms aside and bravely 
smiled. He raised her cold, trembling hands to his lips, mur- 
mured a husky “ good-by ” with tears in his eyes, bestowed a 
last loving look on her face and slowly, almost noiselessly left 
the room. 

Agnes did not speak ; she did not even cry out; she seemed 
stunned with the poignant anguish of the separation. As a 
brother and treasured friend she loved him dearly, and as such 
she regretted parting with him. 

“Good-by!” is a word, alas! often spoken — sometimes 
with inexpressible sadness; little children when about to leave 
home for school have recourse to it, friends who meet for a 


92 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


few minutes’ conversation, speak it; indeed nearly everyone 
uses it in parting with someone else, and so it is a common 
word, often flippantly uttered, so that one forgets to associate 
any gravity in connection with it. And yet, what a wide 
range of suffering we are rarely conscious of, often reveals it- 
self ere we meet again the persons to whom we have said this 
word of pregnant meaning. Sometimes we never meet them. 
They may have wandered to some distant part of the world, 
or have gone to that great “unknown beyond,” and our 
thoughts revert to that last “ good-by ” with many emotions, 
and happy indeed are they who know that they had spoken 
the word kindly, or at least, not in an anger ! Good-by ! 
the very sight of the word breathes of sad regret and pain. 

When thinking in later days of how they had parted, Agnes 
was glad indeed to know that they had spoken gently and lov- 
ingly when saying “ good-by.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

DR. WAYNE DECLARES HIS LOVE. 

Decidedly, sorrow was never meant to linger long in young 
hearts; sunshine and happiness are the natural companions of 
youth, and though for a time we may suffer the keenest pangs 
known under the black cloud of sorrow, still our hearts will 
return again to their old gay habits. 

At the end of a few weeks, Agnes was quite reconciled to 
Edward’s departure; every week she received a letter from 
him full of cheerful advice, descriptions of the life he led, and 
teeming with his passionate love for her. She cried over them 
many, many times to think how unworthy she was of his af- 
fection, then hid them away with thoughtful tenderness. 

One cold, blustery day when the luxury of a bright fire was 
more pleasant and welcome than the wintry atmosphere, Agnes 
decided to go to the cemetery and visit her father’s grave. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


93 


She was feeling very, very sad, and wanted to go there and 
moan out her misery unseen and unheard. She thought it 
would do her good, because she felt that she must talk of her 
trouble — the trouble which had already left its marks upon 
her. That very day her brother had remarked that “ she was 
not nearly as lively as she used to be ; the roses never bloomed 
in her cheeks any more ; and altogether she was becoming as 
silent and grave as a nun. When next he wrote to Mr. Haw- 
ley he would use some strong language and tell him to stop 
making his sister miserable.'’ 

Agnes had smiled in her gentle way, for she was ever gentle 
to those about her; but her heart was heavy with sorrow. 
Yes, she must speak to someone of her passionate, hopeless love 
for Dr. Wayne, but when she looked around to find a sympa- 
thizer, she saw no one that she cared to intrust her secret to. 
Her brother ? Ah, that was out of the question ! As for con- 
fiding it to Estelle, she could never understand it, and would 
only consider it “ terrible.” But her loving, gentle, kind old 
father had understood her, even before she had understood 
herself. Ah, if she only had him back to comfort and advise 
her ! But alas and alas ! it was too late ! 

Oh, suffering heart, to moan and groan over the impossible ! 

But the desire to be near her father’s resting-place and speak 
as though he really heard all her heart gave utterance to, 
brought Agnes some little comfort. So as she preferred soli- 
tude, she walked the entire way. The wind tossed her skirts 
about wildly, and brought a bright color to her cheeks and a 
sparkle to her eye. It made her look to those few pedestrians 
who passed her, like a bright bird capable of withstanding the 
wild gale, for she seemed wholly unconscious of its fury. When 
she had passed the 9th Avenue and 3rd Street entrance to 
Prospect Park by about half a block, she suddenly became 
aware that some man was following and trying to overtake her; 
but without turning she continued on her way at a more rapid 
gait. The person behind was not far away as she could tell, 


94 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


for the dried, withered leaves lay thick upon the ground and 
his steps caused them to rustle loudly. The man was rapidly 
gaining on her, and as the road was quite lonely at this point, 
she concluded that she would slacken her pace ; for to elude 
him by running would be ridiculous. In a few seconds he had 
reached her side, and as he was about to pass he glanced at her 
face, and then stopped exclaiming gladly : 

“ Oh, Miss Agnes, is it really you ? ” 

“Dr. Wayne?” she faltered, and her hands were clasped 
tremblingly in his. “ What a fright you gave me, coming 
upon me so mysteriously. Why didn’t you call? ” 

“ I was uncertain as to whether it was you or not, and did 
not wish to appear too much interested,” he explained, taking 
possession of one of her hands and drawing it through his arm. 
“ Now, tell me ; where are you going ? ” 

“To the cemetery,” she returned, glancing timidly into his 
face. 

“Very well,” he said; “I’ll go with you, Agnes. I 
haven’t seen you alone for so long a time, that I cannot miss 
this chance.” 

They walked on in silence for some time ; Dr. Wayne was 
unusually thoughtful, but Agnes was thrilled with a wild unde- 
finable happiness, which she did not seek to restrain. 

“ And so Edward has gone on the road, eh ? ” he at length 
questioned. 

“Yes,” was her grave reply. 

“ And quite naturally you are lonely? Love-sick, in fact? ” 

“ Oh, no indeed ! Surely I do not look so ? ” 

“ Well, no,” he admitted, “ your face is too full of happi- 
ness ; your cheeks should be pale, your eyes languid, your step 
slow ’ ’ 

“Oh, come, doctor, do not make me out an invalid, please,” 
she laughingly interrupted. 

“I am happy to say there are no symptoms whatever of 
disease in your appearance, Miss Agnes,” he said, trying to 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


95 


repress a smile. “ But, perhaps you are too accomplished an 
actress, and thus prevent your heart from expressing its emo- 
tions. How should I know to the contrary ? ” 

“ What do you mean? ” Agnes gasped, stopping suddenly 
in their walk, and regarding him searchingly. She feared 
for the moment that he suspected she loved him, and of all 
things she wished to conceal was that fact from him. 

He laughed as he replied : 

“ Why, generally the emotions are expressed in the face; 
so, as you appear happy I concluded that you either were 
reconciled to Edward’s being away, or else simulated that you 
were.” 

“Oh!” she muttered; and having nothing more to say 
they walked on until they reached the entrance to the cemetery. 
Here two grave-diggers stood who eyed them curiously as they 
passed. When out of their hearing Dr. Wayne turned to 
Agnes and asked : 

“ Are you not ashamed to be seen walking with me?” 

“ Ashamed ? ” she cried, in surprise. “ Why, what are you 
thinking of, doctor ? ” 

“ You have not answered my question.” 

“ Ashamed ? Why should I be ashamed ? Surely I am do- 
ing no wrong by being in your company ? ” 

Although he was very grave he could scarce repress a smile. 

“No, no, Agnes! you misunderstand. I meant, are you 
not ashamed to be seen in my company because I am a — a — ” 

He paused chokingly, for he was so overcome with emotion 
in regard to what he wished to convey that he could not speak. 
His eyes sought hers as though he wished she would under- 
stand without compelling him to explain. 

“Tell me,” she softly urged. Her gentle voice gave him 
courage to speak. 

<l I have often seen people pass me who bestowed a shun- 
ning glance on me, because I am a ” 

“ Oh, hush ! don’t say the word,” she interrupted clasping 


o 6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


bis arm tightly in her pity and love. “ And so,” she added, 
“you thought that I think of you in the way other people — 
people without heart or brain — who know no better than to 
make sport of those who possess them, regard you? Oh, shame, 
shame ! to give me so little credit as to infer that I am heart- 
less and brainless ! Why, the very fact that you are afflicted 
makes me love you dearer still as my brother and friend, dear 
doctor.” 

Her gentle reproach and compassion stirred him as nothing 
else could have done. He turned to her with dimmed eyes, 
and said : 

“ You don’t know how you have affected me, little Agnes, 
with your sweet, womanly tenderness. Somehow you make me 
view life so differently when l am with you. Everything seems 
so much brighter, tenderer, and more beautiful, that I forget 
that there are brainless, heartless people who scoff at me as 
though — because I am a hunchback — I were branded like 
Cain. Some men, afflicted as I, turn to God for sympathy and 
love when humankind denies it them. But I want the love of 
mortals and why should it be denied me ! ” 

“It is not denied you,” Agnes answered. 

“ No, not from you at least, dear little comforter,’ ’ he gently 
returned. 

When they stood at her father’s grave, Agnes grew solemn 
and silent. It seemed so strange to her to be standing there 
with Dr. Wayne, especially when she remembered that she had 
come there with the purpose of pleading for help to do what 
was right, that she might be consoled. Her lips quivered, and 
she turned her head aside to avoid Dr. Wayne’s gaze. She 
noticed in a dreamy sort of way that the sky seemed very high 
and clear, the leaves on the branches of the tree above her 
were all withered and dried, and there were very few to what 
there used to be some time before. Tears which she struggled 
hard to keep back rolled down her cheeks, and sobs rose thick 
and chokingly in her throat. Dr. Wayne had been quietly 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


97 


watching her, but he now stepped close to her ; he put one 
arm around her waist, and drew her head down on his breast. 

“ Is your heart still so deeply attached to your father, Agnes, 
that it is impossible ever to think calmly of the sorrow of your 
parting ? ” he tenderly said. “ Can no other affection take the 
place of his ? Can you not trust me, and look upon me as your 
friend and confidant, knowing that my dearest wish is to see 
you happy and that I will do everything in my power to make 
you so ? Agnes, you have soothed me of many a heartache 
and I long so earnestly to repay your kindness when you are so 
much in need of it. My poor little Agnes, speak to me ; tell 
me you trust me!” 

“1 do indeed trust you, she answered, looking up into his 
face and smiling through her tears, while she disengaged her- 
self from his embrace. 

“ Thank you for that. There was a time, dear,” he pro- 
ceeded sadly, “ when that alone would not have satisfied me; 
the time is only a few, short months ago when I had firmly 
resolved that you must be all the world to me, for I love you, 
little Agnes.” 

He paused, but she did not speak; she was not surprised 
at this declaration for she had thought all along, ever since 
she had discovered that she loved him , that he returned her 
affection, if not as deeply as that she felt for him, at least in 
some degree. 

“ Yes, I love you,” he continued, “but I know you do not 
return it. I know you love Edward, and I hope you will be 
happy with him. I had never meant to tell you of my love, 
since I had learned that Edward alone occupied your thoughts ; 
but you have always been kind and sympathetic, and so I have 
overcome my resolve to remain silent. I think it is best after 
all that you should understand how deep an interest I take in 
you, since we mean to be such good friends. Why don’t you 
speak to me, Agnes ? If you are angry why don’t you bid me 
cease talking ? ” 

7 


9 8 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


She did not speak, but her breathing came fast and short, 
and she could not look at him. 

“ Let me look into your eyes. Those pure, honest 
revelers of the soul cannot conceal your feelings from me 
whatever your lips may say,” He came nearer to her, he 
lifted her face up, and caused her eyes to meet his under the 
influence of his compelling glance, and then he said, his voice 
thrilling with mad joy : “ No, you are not angry with me ; 

but, Agnes, did I not know it is impossible, I could almost 
swear that you love me!” 

“ No, no!” she cried falling back from him, a wild 
expression of pain and shame overspreading her face. 

“ No ? I do not believe it ! ” he asserted with the air of one 
who had won a victory. “ I would not believe you, dear, no 
matter what you might say, when your eyes speak the reverse. 
But, Agnes, why do you want to hide your love from me ? Oh, 
child, if you knew how my heart yearns for your affection, you 
would pity me ! ” 

He looked very handsome and very miserable as he stood 
before her, with his head bared to the wind which stirred the 
hair on his brow. That brow ! Ah, how mournful the lines 
there penned by sorrow’s hand ! And she loved him ; loved 
him ! and in her love she forgot duty, forgot honor, and her 
promise to Edward ! She twined her arms around his neck, 
and whispered so low that he could barely catch her words s 
“ I love you dearer than anyone else in the world.” 

He clasped her to his breast very tenderly, and she felt her- 
self thrilled to the very core of her heart and soul, as no 
embrace of Edward’s had ever thrilled her. 

“ Let me kiss you, Agnes, my dear one ; mine to cherish 
and love for all time ! My love — my little comforter ! ” 

“For all time?” she asked, and shook her head sadly. 
“ Oh, doctor, indeed, indeed you must not say that again. It 
is utterly impossible ! ” 

“Impossible!” he cried. “It is only impossible if you 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


99 


make it so. But you will not, my darling. Why, I have been 
starving my heart in trying to restrain my affection for you, 
and now when I have barely tasted happiness, surely you would 
not dash the cup of bliss from my lips ? No, no, Agnes ! you 
must be all in all to me. I will take you away from here, 
dear, to some beautiful place where we can be happy together ; 
where peace and contentment shall join us to each other 
stronger than any tie that man can make, or — sever ! ” 

“ But you have a wife,” she said gravely. 

“A wife? A wife ? ” he laughed bitterly as he said the 
word. “Yes, true enough; I have a wife! No man ever 
had so lovely a companion ; yes, and she loves me so dearly it 
is the greatest pleasure in the world to her to make my exist- 
ence as miserable as she can ! My wife ! ay, truly, I ought to 
be proud of her ! ” 

“ Oh, do not speak so bitterly ! It grieves me to know you 
are so unhappy,” Agnes pityingly said. 

u Grieves you, Agnes? Ah, but I don’t want you to grieve 
for me ; I don’t want you to pity me ; I want you to love me 
and make me happy. I want you to be to me what fate 
intended we should be to each other.” 

“ But you don’t comprehend how wickedly you speak,” she 
reasoned, “ think of all that I would be compelled to sacrifice 
for you — home, brother, friends, and above all, I should be 
breaking a promise given to my father when dying.” 

“ What promise? ” he demanded abruptly. 

“ I promised him that I would do my duty and uphold my 
integrity, no matter what the cost.” 

“Integrity!” he cried hotly; “ I tell you there is no 
question of sacrificing your integrity in what I ask ! Rather 
are we condemning that which is right by mingling with peo- 
ple who cannot esteem it.” 

“ Your case is different to mine,” Agnes interposed sadly, 
“it is harder, I admit; but you reason wrongly neverthe- 
less ” 


100 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


“You have said that you loved me, Agnes? ” 

“ Yes, and I say it again ; I do love you ! What then? ” 

“ Would you sacrifice all your happiness for the sake of 
doing right as you ca\\ it? Would you rather marry Edward 
than experience the happiness which I alone have the power to 
grant you ? Think of what your life would be passed with 
him , then think of what it would be with me — for I swear to 
you, Agnes, by the sacred memory of your dead father, that I 
will make your life as happy as I can. I will be to you what 
man never was to woman before ; I would be father, mother, 
brother and husband to you. I would in fact make your life 
so very happy, you would never desire other companionship 
than my own. And there is no dishonor, Agnes, in desiring 
to be happy when people are situated as you and I. The 
opinion of the world is not worth considering. Everyone is 
continually preaching righteousness, but few practice it ; or if 
they do they are people of cold, materialistic natures, who do 
not experience suffering as you and I, and others like us. Yes, 
Agnes, it’s a sad mistake to fight against what our hearts 
demand when no one is to be wronged by doing as we wish to 
do.” 

All the while that he had been talking she had been looking 
at her father’s grave-stone, and now that he had ceased she 
still looked at it and was silent. Her thoughts were back in 
the past of a few months ago. Alas ! how fateful had been the 
stream of her life since then ! It had rushed on carrying in 
its course sorrow, pain, regret, but little pleasure, and still it 
would run on and on, never ceasing until she lay cold and 
silent perhaps in this very grave beside which she now stood. 
Yes, the stream of her life would run on its course, uprooting 
no doubt, deeper sorrow, and keener regret and pain, and then 
it would suddenly end. 

End ! and no one would know or care about the bitter heart- 
aches she had known. This man beside her offered her hap- 
piness ; none would ever love her as well as he ; no one would 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


id 


she ever love so well 1 Life without him would be a blank. 
She would never see anything beautiful in the world again ; 
nothing, nothing — only the sad sweetness of her sorrow ! 
Such would be her life were she to act rightly. What a ter- 
rible price it seemed, to think that for upholding her integrity 
she must endure a lifetime of sorrow ! — “ A sacred and beauti- 
ful crown to wear ? ’ * Ay, truly ! but there was no happiness 
in connection with it ! And when she would be lost to the 
world, lost to friends, lost to him who loved her, in the black, 
yawning abyss of Death, what would it matter whether she 
had led a righteous life, or had sacrificed her integrity for hap- 
piness ? Gain an eternity of happiness in Heaven ? Ah, but 
that last breath of air, last beat of the heart which reveals to us 
the world of shadows, might be far in the distance ; beyond 
the verge of twenty, thirty, or forty years ! God ! what a 
prolongation of suffering ! 

“ Agnes, darling, don’t you agree with me?” interrupted 
Dr. Wayne, peering over her shoulder into her face. 

“ Agree with you? No, no ! I don’t know! Everything 
seems so black, and dreary and full of sadness. But I love 
you — I love you ! ” 

And she clung to his breast like a storm-tossed bird seeking 
refuge, feeling that all the world was against her. 

Dr. Wayne believed he had won her consent ; but wisely re- 
frained from speaking to her on the subject just then. The 
day was fast drawing to a close when Agnes said she must re- 
turn home ; and so in the gathering twilight which gradually 
deepened into the blackness of night, they walked home 
through the gas-lit streets, glancing into windows right and 
left of them, where they caught glimpses of different homes 
and the people who occupied them. In one room especially 
Agnes saw a sad-looking woman about forty seated in front of 
a bright wood fire, the flames of which every moment threw 
fitful gleams of light on her face. In one hand she held the 
portrait of a man on which her eyes were rivited thoughtfully 


102 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


and sorrowfully. What her story might have been Agnes 
could not conjecture ; but she shuddered to think that perhaps 
some day years hence she too, might be seated thus in soli- 
tude, dreaming over a picture and thinking of a happiness she 
might herself have known. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AGNES’S STRUGGLE. 

Dr. Wayne left Agnes at the door of her home. When 
parting with her, he took her trembling, cold, little hand, and 
clasped it warmly and closely within his own. 

“ You will always love me? ” he earnestly whispered. 

“ Yes,” she softly returned, looking up into his face and 
smiling faintly. 

He said “good-night ” and went his way. But Agnes did 
not go within doors immediately. Long after Dr. Wayne had 
gone she stood still — lost in dreamy thought. But at last she 
roused herself, and shaking her head sadly went inside. 
Entering the parlor, she found her brother sitting before the 
fire deep in reverie. He started up, however, when she came 
toward him, and said : 

“ Hallo, sis ; where have you been ? ” 

He turned to look at her when she did not answer, and saw 
her lying back in a chair, pale, and trembling, and panting. 
Without further questioning he went at once to her assistance. 
After loosening her cloak and removing her hat, he chafed her 
cold hands until they had regained some warmth, and then, 
when she had drank a cup of hot tea, he helped her to the 
sofa, and made her lie down. 

Louis Bonnard looked and felt perplexed. It was an un- 
usual thing for his sister to be subject to fainting spells ; con- 
sequently he was puzzled ; especially so, as he could not de- 


io3 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

fine any good reason for it. How ghastly white she was to be 
sure, and what a frightened, pained expression was in her 
eyes ! 

Suddenly she looked at him, and then said pointing to the 
floor in the centre of the room : 

Will you please put those flowers in water, Louis? ” 

He looked to where she pointed, and noticing that the 
flowers indicated were the same as those which grew on a 
large bush in their garden, he said : 

“ Oh, there’s no need to do that ; we have plenty more.” 

“ But I want to keep those " she insisted earnestly. 

Wondering at her odd request, he did as she desired. She 
watched him the while as though she feared something might 
happen to them. 

Louis did not trouble Agnes with further questions, but 
drew his own conclusions as to the cause of her faintness. 
Before leaving the room to retire to her own chamber, she 
took the glass containing her flowers, and he noticed that her 
hand lingered caressingly on them. 

li So,” he thought, when she was gone; “ those flowers have 
some connection with her illness. But it is no use asking her 
the cause, because if a woman dosen’t volunteer to explain, it 
is useless trying to induce her. I must look into this later. 

But, like a great many people, Louis Bonnard’s decision to 
investigate the matter was made on the spur of the moment. 
The next mqjning when he saw her, she was as cheerful as 
usual, so he thought no more of her queer behavior of the 
night before, than to remark that she evidently had walked 
too much for such a stormy day. 

But in spite of her apparent cheerfulness, Agnes had suf- 
fered terribly that night. Until long past midnight she did 
not sleep, but sat by the window of her bedroom, looking out 
at the star-lit sky, thinking, thinking— and trying to pierce the 
dismal prospect that greeted her. 

Away from Dr. Wayne, she began to reason differently to 


104 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


what she had done in the afternoon, and her thoughts were 
calmer. She summoned up all the advice her father had 
given in regard to doing right, thought of Edward’s love, and 
what the world would think were she to consent to Dr. 
Wayne’s proposal. She fancied herself living with him, and 
had she been of a reckless, thoughtless disposition, she would 
have seen herself happy. But as she was timid, sensitive, and 
conscientious, she thought everyone would regard her with 
scorn; and, although his love would always be as devoted 
(she did not in the least doubt that) still, when considering 
all she would be compelled to contend with for the sake of 
that love, would it not be best after all to do right ? Of 
course she would never marry Edward now that her affection 
was so utterly estranged from him — that would-be cruel to 
both him and herself. And besides, had she not promised to 
be true to — Robert? “Robert!” She repeated the name 
with sad tenderness and wearily wondered when people loved 
each other why they could not come together. 

She wrote a letter which she intended to give the doctor 
when she next saw him. She said that their love was a mis- 
take ;it could never culminate in the way he had spoken of. 
She pointed out all it would make her suffer ; she would al- 
ways be true to him inasmuch as she would not marry anyone 
else, but he must not speak to her of love. Of course she 
could never be happy again — thoroughly happy — but she 
would know that she was doing what was right, and she 
hoped very earnestly that he would always remain her “ dear, 
kind friend.” 

She never asked herself whether she would be satisfied with 
his friendship alone. Indeed, it is rare that a woman ques- 
tions herself on such a point where a man loves her. She 
takes it for granted that the love must remain the same. On 
the contrary a man holds different views in expressing his love 
and in expressing his friendship. He acts as though the two 
things were not the same. His love, he shows by a devoted 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


ICS 

familiarity ; his friendship causes him to act ever as though he 
were under restraint, and makes him appear cold in his atten- 
tions. Much more is demanded from those we love than from 
those we regard merely as friends. A woman who regards a 
man as a friend, might watch him pay attentions to another 
woman for hours at a time without one pang of jealousy; but 
how widely different would be the case if she loved him ! Not 
all the protestations he could ever make, would make her be- 
lieve that he had been true to her at the time he was speaking 
to her rival. Though years intervened and they had married, 
still she would remind him of the “ Mary Jane ” to whom he 
had spoken years before, and perhaps had never seen since, 
but he would still be at her mercy. 

Now, Agnes, who sincerely desired to do what was right, 
thought that all she would have to do would be to forbid 
Dr. Wayne to speak to her of love. This she considered 
doing right. It never occurred however to her that speaking 
of love and thinking of it is as bad one way as the other, for 
she did not wish him to cease loving her. 

She kept the flowers he had given her in water, until they 
were quite faded, and then placed them between the leaves of 
a book to press, thinking as she did so of the familiar lines : 

“ ’Tis but a little faded flower 
But oh, how fondly dear ! 

’Twill bring me back one golden hour, 

Through many, through many a weary year.” 

Would that those pathetic lines had been heeded ! Would 
that, instead of praying for happiness, she had begged from 
the bottom of her heart: “ Lead me not into temptation.” 

* * * * * * * 

“ A letter for you, sis,” said Louis Bonnard one morning 
coming into the dining-room, where Agnes was diligently sew- 
ing. He threw the letter into her lap and then stood watching 
her while she opened it. But partly because she knew the 
letter was from Edward, and partly because her brother was 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


to6 

regarding her narrowly, it grew quite a difficult task for her to 
tear the envelope apart. 

When it was finally opened, she began to read it with the 
deep interest that only a love letter can rouse in woman’s brain. 

“What news? ” questioned Louis as Agnes looked up at 
last, with a deep sigh. 

“ Edward says he is due in Denver, the 8th of December ; 
also, he sends his kindest regards to you.” 

“Much obliged to him, I’m sure; send him mine, when 
you answer his letter.” 

Agnes nodded, and her brother left the room. It was about 
half an hour later when she was again interrupted — this time 
by the servant saying : 

“ There’s a gentleman to see you, miss.” 

“ A gentleman to see me ! ” exclaimed Agnes in surprise. 

When she had entered the parlor, she found Dr. Wayne 
leaning against the mantel, looking into the glowing fire. 

“ Good-morning, Agnes,” he said, approaching her with 
outstretched hand. 

She returned his greeting very quietly, but was so nervous as 
to forget to even ask him to be seated. She had not seen him 
since that day when they had been to the cemetery — over a 
week ago — so naturally this meeting was somewhat embarrass- 
ing. 

“ I am an early caller, am I not ? Perhaps you are annoyed 
with me for coming so unseasonably?” he questioned, sur- 
prised at her silence. 

“Oh, ho,” she assured him with her serious smile. 

“You see,” he explained, “my morning route begins at 
ten o’clock, so I thought it would be best to call before I 
started out. I have been wanting to see you so very, very 
much. ..... Well, Agnes, haven’t you anything to say to 
me ? ” 

He came quite close to her and attempted to take her hands, 
but she drew away and pleadingly said : 


the midnight elopement . io; 

“ Oh, don’t touch me ; wait a moment, please, I have some- 
thing to show you.” 

And she darted, past him out of the room before he had a 
chance to detain her. She returned in a few moments and, 
with a trembling hand, extended him the letter which she had 
written. 

“ Why, what does this mean, Agnes? ” he gaily asked. 

“ Something I wished to tell you ; but I couldn’t say it, so 
I have written it instead,” she returned quietly, but without 
looking at him. 

When he had finished reading the letter, Dr. Wayne stood 
looking at her as though wondering whether or not it was all a 
joke ; but he at length said : 

“ You are not aware, Agnes, of what all this implies, or you 
would not have written as you have done — not if you had 
loved me. Do you know you ask of me what is impossible ! 
Of course I shall always remain your friend, but I can never 
bear to see you if you forbid me to speak to you of my love. 
If you return my affection, Agnes, as I have every reason to 
believe you do, you know very little of the heart if you think 
that what you ask can be accomplished thus easily — where two 
passionate natures cling fondly to each other ! It is the breath 
of their lives, dear, and all the duty, and honor, and philos- 
ophy in the world will not change that craving.” 

“ Oh, please, don’t try to make me change my resolve,” she 
pleaded earnestly, as he paused. “ But if you would only be 
rny friend, and let me see you quite as often as in the past, I 
think we could both be almost contented.” 

“ I have thought as you have done, I have made the effort 
to do what I once thought was right, and I have failed, Agnes. 
How can you expect me to be continually in your presence 
without expressing by one solitary caress how I feel toward 
you; it would be absolute cruelty to live under such restraint. 
No, no, Agnes, I cannot accede to such a hopeless request. I 
cannot cast out the one gleam of sunshine that has brightened 


108 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


my life. You seem to regard my love for you as though it 
were the love of mere friendship when you speak so calmly of 
restraining it. But I tell you that is beyond my power. I 
love you, and you must either consent to let me love you or I 
will remain away from you forever. Come, tell me, Agnes, 
which is it to be ? ” 

“ Oh, I cannot consent to never seeing you again,’ ’ she 
sobbed. 

His arm closed tenderly around her ; and she nestled close 
to him, all thought of honor and duty gone ; but her love was 
burning like a furnace in heart and soul. 

“Very soon, my darling, I shall take you away with me,” 
he said, but she did not answer. 

From that time she never spoke of duty to him again. Not 
that she entirely agreed with his idea of being happy in spite 
of everything ; but when the dismal thought came that they 
would part forever did she hold to doing what she knew was 
right, then did her heart refuse to let her speak. And thus 
the days went by, and the struggle between love and integrity 
grew harder ; and the advice her dying father had given was 
unheeded. 

Dr. Wayne had tried to induce Agnes to write to Edward 
and tell him of her changed feelings toward him ; of course 
omitting to mention himself as connected with it in any way. 
But she had reasoned that it would be a much easier task to tell 
him of it when she saw him again. She continued to write to 
him therefore as though her love was unchanged ; and he, 
poor fellow, never read between the lines of her letters ! In 
the blindness of his own love he trusted her entirely, and when 
he read the words her hand had traced “I love you ! ” he 
thoroughly believed they came from her heart. 

But many pangs of remorse stirred her heart when she 
thought of the hypocritical part she was playing. She felt 
herself an entirely different person to what she was a few 
months ago, and oh, what a miserable change it was ! 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


109 


CHAPTER XV. 

AGNES’S DREAM. 

“Auntie, do I look nice?” asked Estelle Richmond one 
night bursting into the kitchen, where Mrs. Hawley sat before 
the fire, busily knitting and watching the simmering pots on 
the stove. 

“Look nice?” her aunt repeated, glancing up at her; 
“ why, my dear, you always look nice.” 

“But do I look especially so to-night?” wistfully asked 
Estelle. 

Mrs. Hawley stared at her sharply, then said : 

“ Hem ! he’s coming to-night, I suppose ? ” 

“ Who, auntie? ” 

“Mr. Bonnard of course. There is no other gentleman 
comes here.” 

“ Mr. Moore comes sometimes. I thought perhaps you 
meant him,” returned her niece with an uplifting of her eye- 
brows. 

Mrs. Hawley made no reply, but arose from her seat, and 
lifting the covers of the pots on the stove, she shook a dash of 
pepper into one, and of salt into the other. A few minutes 
thereafter, she announced to her niece that supper was ready ; 
and they both seated themselves at the table to do it jus- 
tice. * 

“ Child,” said Mrs. Hawley gravely, when they had almost 
finished their meal, “I don’t think you are looking quite as 
well as when you came here. Is there anything wrong between 
you and Mr. Bonnard ? ” 

“ I — I don’t think I quite understand you, aunt,” chokingly 
returned Estelle. 


1 10 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


1 i Nonsense ! ” fiercely expostulated Mrs. Hawley. “ Do you 
suppose I’m blind or an idiot, not to see that you are in love 
with Bonnard ? Why can’t you answer me truthfully ? But, 
ah, the present generation of young women are sadly lack- 
ing in truth ; everything is pretention and sham nowa- 
days ! ” 

“ Oh, aunt, please don’t be angry ! ” 

“Angry ! ” and the word was spoken by Mrs. Hawley with 
such deep vehemence that she made her niece start from her 
seat as though a pin had suddenly run into her. “Is it any 
wonder I am angry ? Here are you keeping company with a 
young man, and yet you don’t know whether he cares about 
you or not. A fine state of things, truly ! ” 

And the old woman sniffed the air contemptuously. 

“But, surely, aunt, you wouldn’t have me ask him if he 
loved me?” 

“ Have you ask him, you silly girl ! ” fairly screamed the 
old lady. “ No ; but there are a hundred of ways of finding 
out.” 

“Tell me how, auntie,” eagerly said Estelle. 

“ Oh, for mercy’s sake use your brains ! ” was the sharp re- 
sponse. 

Miss Estelle made no reply ; she had fallen into deep 
thought. Suddenly she jumped up and skipped to Mrs. 
Hawley’s chair ; putting her arms around her neck she said 
very earnestly : 

“Aunt, would you approve of my marrying Mr. Bon- 
nard ? ” 

“ Good heavens, girl ! what makes you ask me that ?” cried 
Mrs. Hawley in astonishment. 

“Never mind; but do you approve of him?” persisted 
Estelle, her eyes fairly dancing. 

“ Well, yes ; ” was the reply given promptly ; but no sooner 
had she said it than she felt herself choking with the fierce 
pressure of that young vixen’s arms. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Ill 


“Oh, you dear, darling auntie!” was said so loud and 
close to her ear that for half an hour after, Mrs. Hawley 
heard only the the sound of a wild wind ; the next moment 
Miss Estelle had dashed out of the room to answer a ring of 
the door-bell. 

Once outside the room, she paused pantingly in the hall ; 
but only for a moment however ; then she darted to the parlor, 
turned on the dimly-lit gas, and proceeded to do what ninety- 
nine women out of a hundred will do when they suspect their 
visitor to be a man. She stood before the mirror and surveyed 
herself critically ; then, having pulled her sleeves down as far 
as possible, and placed one or two straggling curls in place, 
she proceeded to open the house-door. 

“ Why, Mr. Bonnard, is it you? ” she asked, with a pretty 
pretence of surprise, as that gentleman came under the glare 
of the hall light. 

“Yes, it’s me, Essie,” he returned with easy familiarity, as 
he clasped her hand. “ Had you forgotten that I told you I 
would call to-night? ” 

“ I had not forgotten it; but I thought you might not keep 
your appointment.” 

She had ushered him into the parlor, and he had seated 
himself near the fire ; she was laying his heavy coat aside 
while she spoke, so that he did not see her face just then. 

“Do you suppose anything could make me break an ap- 
pointment with you ? ” he questioned with much earnestness 
as she came and stood beside the fire near him. 

“Oh, yes,” she declared very positively. “ I know of one 
reason, at least.” 

“ What is it? ” he smilingly asked. 

She hesitated, and said of course it didn’t matter much ; but 
Bonnard persisted. 

“If Mrs. Wayne,” she replied, her voice quivering, “asked 
you to call on her, you know you would do so.” 

Bonnard laughed, and declared it was all a mistake ; but 


1 12 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


he did not explain the cause of his attentions to Mrs. Wayne, 
beyond remarking that he regarded her only as a friend. Es- 
telle however, seemed to look upon the affair in a different 
light. She grew grave and sad, and gradually relapsed into 
silence. 

“ Not feeling well, Essie ? ” questioned Louis after a while, 
very tenderly. 

“ Yes,” she returned pettishly, “ I am quite well, and very 
— happy.” 

And she looked him straight in the eye, and her glance 
never faltered. Bonnard wisely refrained from replying just 
then, but a faint smile played round his lips as he watched 
her. What a little thing she was to be sure, and yet what an 
amount of will power she possessed. He saw that although 
she tried to conceal her feelings, she was wounded deeply, 
and he knew that the attentions he paid Mrs. Wayne was the 
cause of it. Although he tried to converse with her, he was 
at last compelled to give up the attempt, for she was quite un- 
interested. Even his most amusing jokes, failed to bring the 
ghost of a smile to her face. He was watching her as she sat 
in a big, easy chair in front of the fire, and thinking what a 
pretty picture she made ! The ruddy fire-light reflected its 
cheery glow over her ; her hands lay limply in her lap : her 
countenance was pale, grave, and profoundly melancholy. 
And how unnatural it seemed to behold such an expression on 
so childlike a face ! No, no ; that look must not linger there ; 
he would remove it by explaining everything in regard to Mrs. 
Wayne. He was about to speak when she suddenly looked up 
and sighed deeply. 

“ Well, Essie, what is the meaning of that ? ” 

“I was thinking,” she quietly replied, “ of a poem I read 
this afternoon; a very beautiful one.” 

“ What is the name of it? ” 

“ It is entitled : ‘ I would not call thee mine.’ ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


113 

u That must be very pretty/' he laughed. “ Do let me see 
it, Essie." 

When her back was turned to him, while she was getting the 
volume containing the poem, she smiled with deep satisfaction ; 
but her face was just as pensive when she came toward him as 
when he had seen it last, .Her fingers trembled somewhat 
though as she turned over the pages until she found the place 
she sought. Then she handed the book to him. She stood 
close beside him looking at the book too, while he read 
aloud *, 



*« Farewell ! thy hand I would not take, , 
Unless the gift contained thy heart 5 
Far better for each other’s sake 
To wear life’s galling chain apart ! 

I love thee, worship thee ! but still, 

If deep within that heart of thine, 

My passion wakes no answering thrill, 

I would not wish to call thee mine * 

** Without thee, life would be a waste 
My heart of every pleasure void, 

For bliss though offered to the taste 
Without thee, could not be enjoyed. 

But since my love availeth not, 

Doth in thy soul no echo make 
I would not have thee share my lot. 

Oh, better that my heart should break ! 

“ Farewell ! though it is death to part ; 

Farewell ! ’tis more than death to me ; 

I cannot teach my self-willed heart 
To beat for any one but thee ! 

And yet, though doomed to love thee still, 
Since deep within that heart of thine. 
My passion wakes no answering thrill, 

I would not wish to call thee mine ! ” 


“ Those are beautiful 
Bonnard, when he had 


lines, but very sad ones, too," said 
finished reading the poem. “ But 


4 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


what have you and I to do with sadness, dear?” and he put 
one arm around her waist and drew her close to her side. 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” she faltered, trying to get 
away from him, her cheeks aflame with blushes. 

“ Yes you do,” he positively declared; “you know I love 
you.” 

“ I don’t know anything of the kind,” she retorted pout- 
ingly. “I wish you wouldn’t come here again, Mr. Bon- 
nard.” 

A sharp spasm struck through Bonnard’s heart ; he released 
her instantly, and almost pushed her from him. Two red 
spots suddenly darted into his cheeks like a flame of fire; his 
eyes flashed, and his lips compressed ; his voice was reproach- 
ful as he said : 

“I never dreamed that my society was distasteful to you, 
Miss Estelle, or you may be sure I would not under any cir- 
cumstance have troubled you._ In the future, however, I will 
remain away since you wish it so. Those lines,” and he 
pointed to the poem he had read, “are a very appropriate ex- 
pression of my feelings for you ; but you are unworthy of my 
love. Will you kindly give me my hat and coat, Miss Rich- 
mond ? ’ ’ 

He placed the book he held on a table and then stood be- 
fore her grave, stern, and utterly unrelenting, waiting for her to 
bring him the articles named. With a proud, little toss of 
her head, she went for them, but her heart was heavy with 
sorrow. She had not looked for such an ending ! She had 
meant him to say something pretty about the poem in connec- 
tion with herself. And now here was the whole matter all 
jumbled up, because of her inability to say the correct thing 
or remain silent. And he loved her too, and he was going 
away angry, for she wouldn’t explain; no; she wouldn’t! 
but, oh, oh, oh ! how terrible it all was ! 

She brought him his coat and hat after a long absence, and 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 115 

tried to restrain the desire she felt to cry, as she watched him 
put them on ; when he was all ready to go, he said : 

“You’ve ruined my life, Miss Richmond, but I shall not 
stay in this city for you to glory over my misery. I shall go 
to Europe or some other place ; it matters not where. And 
now, good-by ! ” 

He held out his hand ; but she did not place hers in it ; 
instead she gave him one last appealing look, and suddenly 
burst into tears. 

“You do love me then after all, Essie?” said Bonnard 
clasping her to him with passionate tenderness. 

She did not answer in words ; but her arms tightened about 
his neck in eloquent assent. 

“And you won’t go to Europe?” she asked some time 
later when they were seated on the sofa, their hands tightly 
clasped together. 

“ No ; to be sure not. Unless on our wedding tour.” 

“And you don’t think me a silly little thing ?” she went 
on, running her fingers up and down his arm with a gentle, 
caressing motion. 

“ My dear ! ” Bonnard tenderly expostulated. 

“ And you’re sure you love me ? ” 

“ I never was more sure of anything in my life than that,” 
he laughed. 

“And you don’t care for Mrs. Wayne? Not the tiniest 
bit?” 

“ I love only you ; and you are all I want. Now are you 
satisfied, you little witch?” And he kissed her. “But 
mind,” he added, “don’t tease me again, by saying you wish 
me not to come to see you any more.” 

“ Indeed, I never will, now that I have found out you are 
such a hot-headed fellow,” she answered good-humoredly. 

“But, Estelle, what will your father and aunt say to the 
agreement we have made? ” Bonnard asked with some trepi- 
dation. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


1 1 6 

“ Oh, auntie will be delighted ; as for my father, he always 
consents to whatever I want if it is reasonable. But, I sup- 
pose you had better write to him and ask for his consent.” 

Bonnard said he’d do so that very night. Mr. Richmond ex- 
pressed himself as delighted with the news when he heard of 
it ; was glad to know that his daughter had brains enough to 
appreciate Mr. Bonnard’s offer, and not like most young 
women fall in love with some young scapegrace. But he, Mr. 
Richmond, felt called upon to advise them on one point ; his 
daughter was little more than a child in both years and ex- 
perience, and he would therefore be delighted if they would 
wait at least a year before they thought of marrying. Of. 
course under the circumstances Mr. Bonnard felt it his duty 
to comply with the old gentleman’s wishes. 

But the night Bonnard had proposed to Estelle, Mrs. Haw- 
ley grew so tired waiting for the young man to take his depart- 
ure, that she actually fell asleep over her knitting. Two soft 
arms clinging round her neck, and a kiss imprinted on her 
brow awoke her. Looking up she saw her niece, as bright 
and wide awake as though it were noon-time instead of mid- 
night. 

“Oh, auntie, congratulate me ! ” exclaimed the young lady. 

“ I’m to marry Mr. Bonnard. He’s proposed; and oh ! I’m 
so happy ! ” 

And catching up her skirts, she whirled round and round in 
a wild waltz. Mrs. Hawley’s drowsiness disappeared in a 
moment ; she praised Mr. Bonnard to an extent that she had 
never praised anyone else ; declared he was the most sensible 
young man she knew, was a gentleman, and all manner of other 
nice things ; and her dear niece ought to be happy indeed, and 
she gave them both her blessing. 

When Bonnard arrived at home, he was surprised to find 
his sister up. As it was past twelve o’clock Louis said it was 
ridiculous for her to wait up for him. But she told him that 
she had been to bed, but had become so frightened over a 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 




n; 


strange, horrible dream, she could no longer sleep. She had 
dreamed that she stood before a great, yawning pit, black as 
night ; but when her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark- 
ness, she saw it contained a mass of human bones, all charred 
and blackened beyond recognition. On the top of them lay 
Edward, apparently asleep. But although she called him until 
her voice was hoarse he never answered ; she was still calling 
him when she awoke. 

Louis laughed at her dream, and said it was no wonder she 
had dreamed of death, becaused he had become engaged to be 
married ; to dream of death meant that she would hear of a 
marriage and now, here was her dream about to be realized. 
Though Agnes was very happy over the engagement of her 
brother and Estelle, still the news did not altogether banish 
her fright. 

When she retired for a second time that night, she tried to 
think of other things, but the uncanny dream returned again 
and again, and strangely associated with it was the thought: 
“ To-day is the 8th ; Edward is to perform in Denver.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SORROW AS A HEALER OF DIFFERENCES. 

When Agnes looked out of her bedroom window the follow- 
ing morning, the fog was so thick that she could hardly dis- 
cern the houses opposite. The street was all dark and wet as 
though a heavy rain had fallen, and the few pedestrians who 
passed shivered and drew up the collars of their great coats. 

Mastering her very natural desire to creep back again to 
bed, Agnes went below, and soon had bright, roaring fires 
burning. 

At exactly eight o’clock her brother made his appearance in 
the dining-room, yawning and shivering. He took up his posL 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


1 18 

tion in front of the fire, and stretching out his hands to the 
welcome heat, fell to thinking, while Agnes set about prepar- 
ing breakfast. When they were seated at the table, it sud- 
denly occurred to Louis that something was missing. 

“ Agnes,” he said, “ has the morning’s paper come yet ? ” 

Agnes left the room to get it. As she was about to hand it 
to him, startling headlines in the paper attracted her attention. 
Looking again she read : 

< 1 A TERRIBLE FIRE IN DENVER ! 

“ THE PRINCIPAL THEATRE ENTIRELY DESTROYED ! ! 

“ OVER A HUNDRED PEOPLE THOUGHT TO HAVE PERISHED IN 
THE FLAMES, INCLUDING THE ACTORS ! ! ! ” 

As she had got thus far a blackness came before her eyes. 
She felt herself falling, and the words in the paper, as she 
tried to read them, grew into a confused mass. But she did 
not faint. In a moment she was herself again ; all her quick, 
mental faculties being under control ; but she shrank neverthe- 
less with a woman’s natural dread from even looking at what 
might reveal, a more appalling calamity. Her brother, who 
had been observing her strange actions now came to her side. 

“ Look ! ” she cried, pointing excitedly to the paper; and 
the sound of her voice was so strange that it startled even her- 
self. “ Read that, and tell me if it is as I fear.” 

He took in the headings at a glance ; then sought, with 
trembling hand, the list of the dead. He read the names of 
several actors who he knew were in the same company as 
Edward — then suddenly, and his heart almost ceased beating 
as he saw it, his eyes fell upon the name, “ Edward Hawley.” 

All the names he had read thus far were those of persons 
burned beyond recognition, but their identity had been dis- 
covered by the clothing they wore, or by tickets in their pos- 
session. The paper also alluded to one young actor who was 
missing, named Harry Dali. 

Bonnard dreaded to look at Agnes for awhile, but clasped 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT liq 

her cold hands and besought her to be calm. She released 
herself from his grasp, and, staggering about the room in a 
half crazed way, with her teeth chattering, moaned that she 
now knew the worst. Her face was ghastly save for the two 
red spots on her cheeks, brought there by excitemento Her 
eyes gleamed, and were unnaturally large, and she seemed to 
have no idea whatever of what she was doing. For some 
minutes Louis stood motionless. At length he drew Agnes to 
the sofa and gently forced her to be seated. He did not speak 
to her however; he knew it would be useless, as only she 
could feel the unutterable anguish of this terrible tragedy, and 
all he could say would be thrown away on her for the moment. 
But, when the keenness of the blow had grown somewhat 
blunted, she grew quieter, and laid her aching head on the sofa. 

Taking advantage of her present calm, Louis left the room 
for a few minutes to get his hat and coat. Meanwhile Agnes 
was thinking profoundly. 

Ah, never again would she clasp poor Edward’s hand and 
hear him express his great love for her ; never would she be 
called upon henceforth to play the hypocrite ; nothing would 
now hurt him ! He had died without knowing of her fickle- 
ness, and she was spared the distress of disclosing it to him ! 
He, and her love for him were dead and gone as utterly as 
though the great ocean had been their grave. Gone ! with 
only the hollow mockery of memory to stir up the ashes of 
what had been ! 

“Sis, dear," broke in the solemn voice of Louis, “I’m 
going to see his mother and Essie. It is right that I should go 
and let them know, if they do not know of it already. You 
will try to be calm, will you not ? " 

He leaned tenderly over her, and stroked back her hair. 
She sat up and announced with strange calmness i 

“ I am going with you." 

And in spite of all his expostulations, in a very little while 
she was ready to accompany him. 


120 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Arriving at Mrs. Hawley’s, Estelle came to the door. Her 
eyes were swollen and red with weeping, and she w r as again 
overcome at the sight of them. Agnes left her brother in the 
hall trying to calm Estelle, and sought Mrs. Hawley. She 
found the old lady in the kitchen, and a great wave of pity 
and love thrilled through Agnes’s heart. Was {his the stern, 
unrelenting woman she had known ? — this woman walking up 
and down the room, beating her breast, and wringing her 
hands ? 

Forgetting all the injustice the unhappy creature had heaped 
upon her, and everything else except that her heart yearned to 
comfort her, Agnes stepped close and laid her hand gently on 
her shoulder. 

For a moment the old fierce hatred gleamed in Mrs. Hawley’s 
eyes, then melted beneath the grave, sweet sympathy of her 
companion’s face, to an expression of surprise and gentleness. 

“ Agnes,” she softly said, stretching out her hand and 
touching the girl’s cheek caressingly; “ I am suffering a ter- 
rible loss.” 

Quite overcome, she wept bitterly ; and Agnes, having 
gained her confidence, did her best to comfort her. It was 
rather surprising to see the two women — the one who had tried 
so hard to win love and friendship, and the other who had re- 
mained so obstinately unforgiving in her hatred — with their 
arms about each other and their tears mingling. Truly sorrow 
is a great healer of differences ! Where all other means have 
failed in bringing about an understanding between people, 
sorrow has often prevailed. When a great calamity has cast 
its shadow upon us, our hearts are incapable of feeling anger 
or resentment; we yearn instinctively forsympathy even from 
our enemies, and how noble and tender it causes us to feel, 
when the hand we have perhaps often longed to clasp, has at 
last been extended to give the hearty, heart-felt wring of 
sympathy. 

When Bonnard had made all the arrangements necessary in 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 121 

the sad case, he took his departure, leaving Agnes to console 
Mrs. Hawley and Estelle, as both women desired her to re- 
main with them. Even Mrs. Hawley was deeply impressed 
with Agnes’s sympathy, for although the girl suffered poignantly 
herself, she did not allow her grief to get the better of her. 
She insisted upon Mrs. Hawley lying down and remaining 
quiet ; dispatched poor, trembling Estelle to the nearest dry- 
goods house with a list of articles she was to get, to make up 
mourning dresses, as for herself, she was every where about the 
house ; sweeping and dusting and lowering blinds, and doing 
everything that lay in her power. 

Meanwhile Louis had communicated with the Denver 
authorities regarding his dead friend. He had begged them 
to forward his remains to Brooklyn at his expense; and also 
would they kindly let him know how the young man had been 
recognized, as there was no statement in the papers to that 
effect. 

In due time, Mr. Bonnard learned that Edward had been 
recognized by a ring he wore which had his name inscribed 
on the inside, and that they had arranged to carry out his first 
request. 

Mr. Richmond had also arrived in all haste in answer to a 
telegram Bonnard had sent him. But as he knew very little 
about soothing the distress of his sister and daughter, he re- 
mained very much to himself, and was thoroughly uncomfort- 
able with the gloomy solitude that surrounded him. Agnes 
and Louis were the only ones he ventured to speak to on com- 
mon-place subjects, as he well knew his daughter would re- 
proach him for being unfeeling to think of anything just 
then, save poor Edward’s death. As for his sister — Mr. Rich- 
mond was mortally afraid to even draw his breath in her pres- 
ence. All day long, poor woman ! she lay motionless on the 
sofa, staring into the fire, for Agnes, with her usual thought- 
fulness had drawn the sofa nearer the stove so that she might 
be comfortable. 


122 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT \ 


Mrs. Hawley’s face had aged and fallen in unspeakably, and 
was ghastly in its very pallor. But she never spoke of her son. 
Only when Agnes was in the room did her eyes turn from the 
fire to gaze with a tender, loving expression on the girl’s face ; 
and when she was alone tears of remorse came to her as she 
thought : “Oh, how different everything might have been had 
she been kinder; for although she did not believe Agnes 
loved Edward, she would have been a true wife to him. But 
it could never be now, for her injustice had sent him to his 
death ! ” 

But the day his poor burned remains were to arrive, her ina- 
bility to act disappeared — she was full of excitement and stood 
by the window feverishly waiting. 

When, in his long, narrow bed, he had been carried to the 
parlor (gloomy indeed now, had it never been so before) the 
undertaker drew Mr. Bonnard aside and spoke to him. 

“Sir,” he gravely said, pointing to the coffin ; “ you will 
see a terrible sight there ; a sight unfit for anyone to behold ; 
so use your judgment whether or not to allow friends to see 
him.” 

“Thank you, for your advice, sir,” returned Bonnard grate- 
fully. “I will look upon him first so that I will be able to 
judge.” 

They moved forward, and the undertaker unfastened the lid 
of the coffin and raised it. One wild, horrified glance and 
Bonnard drew back, faint and heart-sick from the awful sight 
he had seen. 

“Quick!” he hoarsely whispered as he heard footsteps 
approaching, “ fasten it ! ” 

The warning was given none too soon, for the next moment 
Mrs. Hawley, Estelle, Agnes, and Mr. Richmond had entered 
the room. 

“Mr. Bonnard,” said the unhappy mother, “I wish to see 
my son.” 

Her voice was strangely calm, but neither the undertaker nor 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


I23 

Bonnard heeded her request. She spoke again ; but this time 
almost imperiously. 

“ You heard what I said, Mr. Bonnard ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the young man very gravely and sadly, 66 1 
have heard what you have said Mrs. Hawley ; but I beg — I 
entreat of you by the love which you bore him, not to look 
upon him as he is now.” 

“ I must,” she returned firmly ; “ he’s my son.™ 

But as this declaration seemed to have no effect, she cried 
wildly as she leaned over the coffin : 

11 1 sent him to his death ; it was all my fault ? Now I want 
to contemplate what my cruelty has brought about ! Let me 
see him ! my Edward ! my son ! Let me see him ! 99 

Knowing it would be useless to argue longer with her, Bon=* 
nard turned to Estelle and Agnes, and said : 

“ Go to the other end of the room. This is no sight for 
you to see. ’ ’ 

He spoke commandingly, and they meekly obeyed. Bon- 
nard then drew close to Mrs. Hawley, and put his arm about 
her, and nodded to the undertaker in answer to the man’s 
questioning eyes. Mr. Richmond had withdrawn to the other 
end of the room with the others, his face almost colorless. 

As Mrs. Hawley’s eyes fell upon what had once been the 
face of her son, her first impulse was to fly from the spot. 
The kind, good-natured, jolly face was no more ! It had gone 
with his gentle spirit, and what remained looked charred and 
blackened. 

The eyes of his mother glared as though she had gone mad ; 
and when she looked at him a second time, a piercing shriek 
followed in quick succession by others fell from her lips. She 
tore her hair, beat her hands, cursed herself as the cause of his 
terrible end, and so she was led from the room and Agnes 
sought to comfort her. She kissed the lips that had spoken 
many unkind words to her, tenderly ; calmed the excited brain 
with the soft, caressing pressure of her cool hands ; soothed 


124 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


the tortured heart with her gentle, pitying words, until at last 
the poor woman had become calm. 

The following day when they buried him, she went to the 
funeral, and everyone observed that she was changed. She 
clung to Agnes’s strong, young arm, with a pitiable, con- 
fiding trust, and did what ever she bade her. All the old 
fierceness was utterly quenched under the terrible blow of this 
sorrow. When they had lowered the coffin into the grave, a 
young man amongst the group of mourners stepped forward to 
say a few words in reference to the death of his old friend. In 
the solemn silence, disturbed only by the breeze which stirred 
the bare, gaunt branches of the trees, he spoke. After re- 
marking about the goodness and nobleness of Edward’s heart, of 
his generosity and kindness, for only good things should be 
remembered of those who die, he ended with the pathetic 
lines : 


u Leave him to God’s watching eye, 

Trust him to the hand that made him. 

Mortal love weeps idly by, 

God alone has power to aid him. 

Lay him low, lay him low. 

In the clover or the snow ! 

What cares he ? he cannot know ; 

Lay him low ! ” 

Even the sternest hearts melted as they listened, for ail 
mourned him deeply; and his death had been so terrible ! 
Many a sob was heard as they decked his grave with their 
kindly offerings of flowers. He was well loved ! He had 
been a good son, a loyal friend, and as such he was mourned. 
But while their tears were falling on his grave, on a hospital 
cot in Denver, lay an unknown man supposed to be the young 
actor, Harry Dali, who was found in the wreck later, raving 
of Agnes, mother, and Essie. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


125 


CHAPTER XVII. 

MRS. HAWLEY’S SECRET. 

Secrets cannot be kept forever — this fact is pretty well 
established. They will leak out sometime or other in spite of 
our utmost precaution. 

The mystery of the upper rooms in Mrs. Hawley’s house was 
the subject of much wonder and considerable comment to 
those who regarded it as a secret ; and though their curiosity 
had been awakened to such an extent that they had tried to 
find out why the rooms remained unoccupied, nothing had as 
yet been brought to light regarding it. 

Mrs. Hawley herself, however, was the means of satisfying 
everybody’s curiosity; not intentionally of course. 

After the burial of the man she supposed to be her son, like 
most people of her intensity of character, she took her sorrow 
deeply to heart. Had she been a young woman she would still 
have looked upon life cheerfully, but she concluded she had 
nothing to live for now that he was dead. 

When one is regardless as to whether one lives or dies, one 
is naturally inconsiderate as to the state of one’s health ; when 
at other times we have been most careful to avoid draughts, in 
this melancholy period, everything is really unthought of 
except our misery. But draughts will insist upon being 
recognized, although we may wish to ignore them, and they 
come most unpleasantly upon one’s notice. 

Now, Mrs. Hawley when in a sad mood one day, was care- 
less as to where she seated herself. For long hours she 
remained in the same place, where a piercing draught blew in 
upon her. The result was, a severe cold accompanied by a 
high fever, which compelled her to take to her bed. Dr. 


126 


' THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


Wayne pronounced her case as hopeless, for the cold had set- 
tled upon her lungs. Agnes now became her constant 
attendant, and it was to her Mrs. Hawley looked for comfort 
in everything. 

One night while sitting by the poor old woman’s bedside, 
after a long, weary watch, Agnes’s head had dropped forward 
upon her breast and she fell asleep. So very tired was she, 
that she had failed to hear the noise Mrs. Hawley had made as 
she cautiously arose from her bed. A fierce strength seemed 
to possess her ; her eyes blazed with fever and altogether she 
made rather an uncanny picture as she went from the room 
carrying the lighted candle in her hand, her loosened gray hair 
streaming about her ghastly white face, and clothed only in 
her white night-robe. 

It was a bitterly cold night, but she seemed unconscious of 
it. The draughts in the hall caused the light of the candle to 
grow so small that it looked like the bluish flicker of a sul- 
pher match when just lit. But she went on with a firm step 
nevertheless, the surroundings being so very familiar to her. 
Ascending the stairs leading to the unoccupied part of the 
house, Mrs. Hawley at last paused befpre a door, and select- 
ing a key from amongst a bunch she had in her hand, she 
opened it. Then, turning aside a black velvet curtain, she 
staggered forward and fell upon her knees in the middle of the 
room, with a cry of agony. 

In the meantime, Agnes had awakened with a start as though 
conscious of some impending calamity. She was greatly sur- 
prised to find the room in total darkness, but concluded that 
the candle had burnt out, so quickly sought another: When 
the welcome light again flooded the room, she saw with alarm 
that Mrs. Hawley was not in bed. She snatched the candle 
from the table and hurried out into the hall. She called her 
name, and then listened with bated breath for an answer; 
but none came. Shivering with fear she almost ran to Mr. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


12 ? 

Richmond’s room, and rapping loudly on the door, did not 
wait for an answer but entered. 

Mr. Richmond was sitting bolt upright in his bed, fairly 
startled out of his senses by her sudden noisy entrance. 

“ Wh — what’s the matter? ” he gasped as he caught sight 
of her white face. 

“Quick; dress yourself!” she cried. “Mrs. Hawley 
left her room while I was asleep, and I don’t know where 
she is. I will wait outside while you dress, and please 
hurry.” 

It seemed an age, although in reality it was but a few min- 
utes before Mr. Richmond joined her. 

They searched the lower • part of the house first but to no 
purpose, then Mr. Richmond suggested a search above. 
Finally they came to the room Mrs. Hawley had entered. She 
was* speaking as they drew near, so they kept very quiet, even 
going so far as to screen the light of the candle they carried so 
they might not be seen while they listened. 

“Yes,” they heard her reproachfully saying, “you were 
weak ; it was your only fault, but you were weak — weak ! 
And yet I loved you with all the strength of my passionate 
heart. Poor heart ! It had yearned for love so much that 
when you swore to cherish it, it yielded. But you were weak 
— weak ! ” 

Her voice died away in a low wail of utter misery, and the 
three listeners — for Estelle had joined her father and Agnes — . 
drew nearer the door. Agnes put her hands out and they 
came in contact with the velvet curtain ; this she drew aside 
noiselessly. A start of wonder and amazement shot through 
the little group as they looked into the room. 

In the centre of the floor stood the candle Mrs. Hawley had 
taken with her, which threw out a faint reflection ; but shining 
in through a colored glass skylight, was the moon, filling the 
room with a rich purple and golden radiance, and falling upon 
the marble-tiled floor in many grotesque forms. The walls 


128 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 


of' the apartment were almost hidden from sight with works of 
art. The high-backed, carved, oaken furniture too stood out 
in bold relief ; but the most surprising sight of all was the 
picture before which Mrs. Hawley was kneeling — a large paint- 
ing, almost life-size which represented a handsome-looking 
man uncertain as to whether he will choose between “ Duty ” 
or “ Love ” as his life companion. On the right of the man 
stood “Duty” represented by Mrs. Hawley when she was 
young. She was holding out her left hand to the man’s gaze, 
and pointing with the forefinger of the other hand to her wed- 
ding-ring. On the left of the man knelt “Love,” a fair, 
beautiful creature, with a sweet, loving face, who appealed to 
the man’s heart with her eyes aglow with passionate devotion. 
The man’s arms were half extended as though he were about 
to clasp this lovely being to his heart, but his action was 
restrained as he gazed at the wedding-ring “ Duty ” displayed. 

As Mr. Richmond, Agnes, and Estelle watched, Mrs. Haw- 
ley arose from her groveling posture, and taking the candle in 
her hand, held it up close to the pictured face of the man. 
They could hear her panting like a wild animal as she did so. 
Then stepping back a few feet, she broke into an unearthly 
laugh which caused a shudder to run through those who 
listened. 

“Ah!” she hissed, shaking her fist in the man’s face, 
“ you did not deserve the devotion I paid to your memory all 
these years. You were a traitor ! You spurned the hand 
that loved and assisted you ! Was I to blame because I was a 
stumbling-block in the way of your happiness ? Yet /, your 
wife, was spurned and deserted for her / ” 

She threw the candle she held, at the face of “Love,” 
with fierce anger ; As it struck the picture, it was extin- 
guished, and fell upon the floor, leaving the room lit only by 
the beauty of the moon streaming in through the colored 
glass of the skylight. 

“I wonder,” she went on, with fierce vehemence, “what 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


129 


caused you to paint this picture ? Did you paint it as an ex- 
planation of your struggle ere you had decided to desert me? 
Ah, that was weak — contemptibly weak ! No, no ! not con- 
temptibly ! — only weak — terribly weak ; but weakness was 
your fault, my husband ! ” 

She ceased speaking, and began to moan pitifully as she 
walked to and fro in front of the picture. Finally she paused 
again and gazed for a long time at it as though meditating 
some object. 

“Yes, it must be done,” she at length said with a wail of 
despair. “ No one must know of my folly ! No one must 
see this painting, which I have kept for all these long, weary 
years to keep me from believing anything wrong of him. It 
was all weakness — nothing more — which caused him to desert 
me ; and she lured him from me. Yes, I must do it; I will 
die soon, and I cannot bear to think that they will laugh at 
me for what they will deem my foolishness. I must do it ; I 
must ! ” 

Agnes and Estelle had desired to make known to her their 
presence several times, but Mr. Richmond had insisted that' 
they should wait a while. Now however, as Mrs. Hawley was 
in the act of thrusting her hand with the aid of her bunch of 
keys through the picture and so ruin it forever, Agnes sprang 
forward with a cry of remonstrance, and arrested her inten- 
lon. Estelle and her father now showed themselves. 

“Ah, you have been spying on me ! ” she wrathfully ex- 
claimed turning round and glaring at them. “ Well, why 
don’t you laugh and mock at what I have reverenced ? It 
must seem very foolish to you, especially when it is such a 
little thing to satisfy the curiousity you have all felt so long. 
Why don’t you laugh and jeer at it, I say ! ” 

No response was made to her bitter speech, but Agnes put 
her arm about her and gently admonished her to go back to 
her bed. 

“ No, no ! ” she replied angrily. “ I won’t go to bed; I 

9 


130 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


must stay here. Soon I will no longer come, but while life 
lasts, I must remain here amongst the surroundings of the one 
I loved, in spite of his weakness. Ay, he was weak — weak ! ” 

But though the “spirit was willing, the flesh was weak.”' 
The strength that had nerved her thus far suddenly gave out, 
and she would have fallen had not Agnes and Mr. Richmond 
caught her. 

She was shivering and her teeth chattering with the cold. 
They lifted her hastily up with the intention of carrying her 
below, and in her weak, helpless state, she of course made no 
resistance, only as they were carrying her out of the room she 
turned her head, and her eyes rested on the pictured face of 
her husband in a lingering, loving glance of farewell. 

It was her last glance of consciousness ! All that night 
they watched beside her, for her exposure to the cold had 
hastened her approaching end. She lay on the bed uncon- 
scious of her surroundings, with only her panting breath, and 
vacant, staring eyes to show that life still remained. As the 
rising sun came streaming in at the window and fell upon her 
face, her spirit left her. They closed the sightless eyes, and 
folded the poor hands over the silent heart with tender rever- 
ence. They spoke in soft whispers of her sorrowful life, and 
declared it was no wonder that it had soured her disposition 
and made her a hater of her kind. 

After her funeral, Agnes, her brother, Estelle, and Mr. 
Richmond went to the studio, to arrange as to what was to be 
done with the paintings. 

“I am sure,” said Mr. Richmond, “that which my sister 
had kept sacred for so long, should not now be exhibited to 
public gaze; therefore, I say they should be destroyed.” 

The others agreed with him, and they set to work to ac- 
complish that object. When they had torn all the smaller 
paintings, they paused before “Duty or Love,” and studied 
all the beauties of the work, and could hardly bring them- 
selves to the task of destroying it. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 13 1 

“That man,” said Mr. Richmond, “was not mean or in- 
tentionally bad, but I should like to have had the pleasure of 
horse whipping him. Although he was very poor, we were 
good friends in our youth, and becoming acquainted with my 
sister, they finally married. He subsequently began to study 
painting, for which he had marked ability, and they seemed 
happy and contented. But it lasted only three years. He 
fell in love with that girl, and notwithstanding the fact that 
he was a husband and father, he fled with her. But retribu- 
tion was quick upon his track. They were both killed the 
night they fled, in a railroad accident. My poor sister, from 
being one of the most amiable creatures, developed into the 
disagreeable woman you have known. But come, let us to 
work and do away with all that remains of her miserable 
life.” 

And without waiting for the assistance of the others, he 
raised a knife and plunged it with all his force at the face of 
the man, cutting and tearing it to pieces until there was noth- 
ing left of what had been. 

Agnes turned away with a sad heart ; the unfortunate cir- 
cumstances of this woman’s life had a serions effect upon her. 
She pitied all three of the actors in it, but most of all she 
pitied Mrs. Hawley; and when she thought that she too, 
might be the means of perhaps making another woman equally 
as miserable, she thoroughly abhorred herself and declared it 
should not be. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

RETURNED FROM THE DEAD. 

After Mr. Richmond had returned to his business accom- 
panied by his daughter, the old routine of Agnes and Louis’s 
life went on as usual. Their only visitors were Dr. and Mrs. 
Wayne, who sometimes came together, but generally alone. 


132 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Louis still continued to be attentive to Mrs. Wayne without 
telling her of his engagement to Estelle, as he wished to fully 
enjoy her humilation. But Agnes, wishing to discourage the 
woman’s mad infatuation for her brother, had told her of his 
engagement. It was of no avail, however, for she regarded 
it simply as a piece of exaggeration on Agnes’s part and 
thought so little of it that she did not even mention it to 
Louis. Agnes and her brother were continually at war with 
each other on that subject ; yet no mention of her own love 
for Dr. Wayne was ever discussed between them. 

Whether or not Dr. Wayne was suspicious of his wife’s af- 
fection for Bonnard, he never mentioned it even to Agnes. 
But perhaps, too, it never occurred to him that such was the 
case, for he had seen dozens of men paying her the same at- 
tentions, to whom she had been equally as charming, yet 
nothing had come of it; besides, he might have been too 
much interested in his own case with Agnes, to have observed 
her. 

At the most unexpected times he made his appearance at 
the Willow Street house, until Agnes grew to be a regular 
house-bird ; in fact she went out seldom now in her dread 
that he might call and she would miss him. He spoke to her 
continually of their future — and she listened to him, but never 
gave satisfactory responses to anything he said ; for she knew 
— or at least believed she knew — she never would consent to 
the plans he had proposed. Indeed, her determination to do 
right was even expressed in the fact that for every caress he 
lavished upon her, she experienced a pang of keen reproach; 
yet she was thoroughly miserable if he even spoke more coldly 
than usual. 

Sometimes a mistrust of his affection would crop up in her 
mind, for she had placed him on a high pedestal, and could 
not understand how he could love a poor, insignificant girl 
like herself. And on such occasions she would be very shy 
and seem almost afraid of him. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


*33 


Agnes made but one attempt to reconcile Dr. Wayne to her 
opinions. She pointed out to him how unhappy Mrs. Wayne 
would become were she to coincide with his views; and cited 
as an example of what his wife’s unhappiness might be — the 
sad story of Mrs. Hawley’s life. 

“ But,” he had remonstrated, “ there is a great difference 
between the two cases. Mrs. Hawley loved her husband de- 
votedly. No, no, Agnes, you are entirely wrong in your de- 
ductions. I have considered every circumstance, and am per- 
fectly justified in acting as I intend. The only thing that re- 
mains now is to follow out what I think, and that I am ready 
to do when your consent is obtained ; and when is that to 
be?” 

The foregoing conversation had taken place in front of the 
church where Agnes attended. As Dr. Wayne had asked the 
the question — “ and when is that to be ? ” she did not reply, 
but said they had better go inside, which they did accord- 
ingly. 

The church was almost deserted, and the lights were quite 
dim. Selecting a quiet seat, they silently listened for awhile 
to the solemn strains of the organ, welling up through the vast 
structure in uncertain melody, for the organist was just then 
only practicing. 

“Yes,” Dr. Wayne at length said, in a soft whisper, “I 
am justified in making my life as it ought to be. Constant 
unhappiness ill suits one of my temperament. Neglect, cold- 
ness and contempt have been my lot — and the change must 
come to a more happy and peaceful issue. Is it too much to 
ask whether my love has been scorned and trampled upon ? — for, 
Agnes, I did love this woman once — dearly, devotedly. Do 
you not now think that I am justified? ” 

Agnes did not reply at once, but fingered thoughtfully with 
the folds of her dress. At last she raised her eyes, and turn- 
ing them full upon his face, said very gravely : 

“No; when you married Mrs. Wayne you had no fault to 


134 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


find with her ; if you made a mistake, you were unfortunate. 
But life is so short, you ought to try to make the best of it.” 

“ My God, Agnes ! if you only knew the misery of what 
you suggested you would not thus advise me. No, I am sure 
you would not ! ” 

“ Hush ! don’t speak so loud ; everyone will hear you,” 
cautioned Agnes, laying her hand on his arm with a restrain- 
ing gesture. He caught and held her hand and smiled ten- 
derly on her. 

“ I wonder, Agnes, if you really mean all you say?” he 
questioned, modulating his voice. “I honestly believe it 
would be as hard for you to see me no more, as it would be 
for me. Would it not, dear, in spite of all your reasoning? ” 

“Yes, yes; I know it would,” she returned, giving his 
hand a passionate pressure full of her deep, unutterable love 
for him. 

“Then why,” he asked, “are you so obstinate? Why 
will you not let us be happy? ” 

“ Oh, don’t, don’t ! ” she entreated, her voice fairly trem- 
bling with misery ; “ speak no more of it, I implore you ! ” 

And the sudden bright glare of the lights, and the entrance 
of the minister, compelled the doctor to submit to her plead- 
ing. Although apparently attentive, neither paid attention to 
the sermon that was being preached. Dr. Wayne was cogitat- 
ing deeply of what Agnes said. At times a smile would play 
.round his lips, and then again a frown would gather on his 
brow, according to the light in which her sayings dawned 
upon him. Agnes was very sad. As she looked at the altar 
where she was to have stood with Edward Hawley, to have 
taken the marriage vows, all the old happy days associated 
with that first love returned to her memory. How innocent 
she had been, and how childlike ! What would she not give 
to be as she once was ! Innocent, childlike, and happy ! 
Alas, she would never be so again ! She was a woman now — 
a sad, miserable woman ! And she hated herself for occupy- 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


135 


ing a place in Dr. Wayne’s heart which his wife alone should 
have held — hated herself, as only people of strong conscien- 
tiousness and nobility of character can hate and reproach 
themselves. 

And yet, looking into the face of the man she worshipped, 
she felt that but to see him sometimes and hear his voice were 
well worth all her suffering. 

As they walked along the street after service, Dr. Wayne 
said somewhat reproachfully : 

“If you loved me, Agnes, you would consent to my plans.” 

“You are torturing me!” she cried. “Why will you 
doubt my love, when you know it would be impossible for 
woman to love man better. You know that ! ” 

“You may love me, Agnes,” he quietly returned, “but 
after all you dread the opinion of the world.” 

She was silent, because she knew it would be useless to ar- 
gue the question with him. She could not tell him that she 
believed^ were she to consent to his proposals, that he in time 
would cease to love her — and all through his loss of respect. 
Were she to say that, he would vow to the contrary, and how 
was she to know what the future would bring forth when there 
was no legal tie binding them. Besides, looking into the fu- 
ture, she saw herself as a mother despised by her children be- 
cause of their birth. Her loving heart sickened at the thought 
and the blood rushed in a burning glow of shame to her face. 

“I’m afraid I have held your love for me, such as it is, too 
highly,” continued Dr. Wayne somewhat impatiently. 

“I am sorry that you should think so,” she quietly re- 
turned. 

“ Come, let us not quarrel, Agnes, as I see we shall do if 
our discourse continues in this way. Let me tell you how 
I came to commit this miserable mistake that has wrecked my 

life. 

“ The love I felt for Harriet, is not the kind I feel for you, 
Agnes. My love for you is based upon my admiration of your 


136 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


intellect and your kind, loving heart. It is an affection born 
to live forever. My love for her on the contrary, was formed 
under the impression of a beautiful face and captivating man- 
ner. If a young man can spend an evening in the society of 
such a woman without falling in love with her, you may depend 
he will never after be caught in her meshes. But youth will 
yield to such charms, and as I was no exception, I too yielded 
up my heart. AVell, Agnes, it is needless to go into the details 
of what our life has been ; enough that I married her believ- 
ing her to be an angel, but I found she was only made of clay. 
Now, having made such a mistake through no fault of my own, 
except the inexperience of my youth, am I not truly justified, 
loving you as I do — to try and brighten the remainder of 
my life in your dear presence ; especially when we are so 
well adapted to each other ? Would you not seek to do as 
I yourself, were you in my place ? Come, be honest and tell 
me?” 

And he clasped her trembling, little hands warmly, and 
sought her eyes with a pleading expression. When she raised 
them to his eager gaze, they were full of tenderest love, as she 
falteringly said : 

“I — I’m afraid I would." 

“I knew you would agree with me," he joyously ex- 
claimed. 

“Yes, I do agree with you, and were I in your place I be- 
lieve I should do the same, but I am a woman." 

“A most obstinate one at that," he cried impatiently^ 
‘ 5 Here are you pretending you love me, yet you will not com- 
fort me by acceding to my proposals." 

“I am only trying to do what is right," she sadly re- 
turned. 

“ Ah well, I shall win you yet, my darling, in spite of all. 
Do you know, Agnes, there ought to be a law giving a man or 
woman the right to annul a marriage when they discover they 
are unfitted for each other ; do you not think so ? " 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


137 


“ No ; were there such a law to exist there would be nothing 
good or noble left in the world. Amongst my married ac- 
quaintances, I know of but two or three couples who are really 
contented. The rest complain of the faults of their husbands 
or wives, and declare had they known of them before marriage 
they would never have come together. One pretty woman I 
know, who has three children and whose husband is a 
poor, but industrious man, always laments her foolishness in 
having rejected the son of his employer. The man she re- 
jected is still unmarried, and pays her attentions. Should she 
desert her husband and children for this other man, think of 
all they will suffer. Then too, there are men who tire of 
their wives, simply because their beauty has faded. Because 
a man is unable to support his wife in ease, or because a 
woman’s beauty has faded, must their husbands and wives tire 
of them ? Oh, such treatment is contemptible, and shame- 
ful ! ” 

“You are right there, Agnes,” agreed Dr. Wayne. “But 
still, how about those who, like myself, are not to blame for 
their unhappiness ? ” 

“ They should become philosophers and make the best of 
their lives.” 

“ Then to make the best of my life I must have you to share 
it with me,” was his quick reply. 

“No, no,” she expostulated ;“I meant that they should make 
the best of their lives — by adapting themselves to their com- 
panions.” 

“ So you would have me become a flatterer to gratify my 
wife’s vanity ? Heartless, likewise, so that her coldness would 
not affect me ? In fact, you would have me exactly like her- 
self, for in spite of all people may say to the contrary, a man’s 
nature should be as like his wife’s as possible, so that they 
may agree and live happily. Is that what you mean, 
Agnes ? ’ ’ 

“ I will not answer, because I see you are determined 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


138 

to be obstinate and will not agree with me,” she laughingly 
replied. 

“You too, are obstinate; but, never mind! You will 
yet yield pr else you do not love me. And now, good-night, 
Agnes.” 

They had reached the corner of Willow Street, and he had 
decided not to go nearer the house, so that there would be no 
cause for her friends to comment upon their being in each 
other’s company were they seen. They clasped hands warmly 
and lingeringly, and she asked huskily : 

“ Are you angry with me ? ” 

“ Nothing you could say would ever make me really angry, 
my precious little comforter,” he assured her. 

She desired so very much to tell him that she would always 
remain true in her love for him — to cheer and brighten his 
lonely, sad heart with her friendship — to rejoice in his happi- 
ness and condole with him in his misery. But words failed 
her, and she could only hide her emotion, by bidding him a 
hasty “good-night.” 

Her brother was absent when she entered the house, so she 
hastened to her own room, and feeling fatigued and depressed 
went to bed. But Agnes did not go directly to sleep, for she 
thought for a long time over her conversation with Dr. 
Wayne. 

Oh what rapture to lay her head on his breast and call him 
husband. But, alas ! no such happiness was in store for her ! 
She almost wished that Mrs. Wayne would do some rash act 
that would give the doctor sufficient cause to sue for a divorce, 
for her wrath was great indeed against Harriet for not appre- 
ciating her husband more than she did. It seemed to Agnes 
such an impossibility not to love and pity him ; he was so good, 
kind, and noble ! 

She had fallen asleep while thinking, and her senses were 
lost in the deep, refreshing rest she was enjoying, when a loud 
knocking at her room door awakened her. 


i 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


139 

11 Agnes, Agnes, awake ! Come here ! ” called a voice which 
she recognized as her brother’s. 

“I’m coming,” she answered as she sprang out of bed. Then 
slipping on some clothing, she opened the door. 

“ Oh, sis, such good news ! But dress yourself first, then 
come down-stairs and I will tell you all. And mind that you 
make yourself look your prettiest.” 

He was gone ere Agnes had a chance to ask an explanation, 
but losing no time she began her toilet. In a very little while 
she was ready to go below. Her brother was standing in the 
hall near the parlor door, waiting for her when she came down, 
and she was surprised at the happy light in his eyes; and yet, 
he was grave. 

“ Agnes, little sister,” he said, laying his hands on her 
shoulders, and speaking tenderly and seriously; “ we have a 
visitor ; can you guess who ? ” 

“Estelle?” 

“No, but one whom you esteem as dearly.” 

She was thoughtful a moment, then shook her head and de- 
clared she could not think who it was. 

“ I don’t know how to break the news to you; ” he said in 
a sad, puzzled tone. “Are you sure, Agnes, that you can bear 
to hear very, very glad tidings ? ” 

“Joy will not kill,” she returned, laughingly. 

“Well then, listen. Don’t get excited. You remember, 
Agnes, that the body of the man we supposed to be Ed- 
ward ” 

“Supposed!” she exclaimed, interrupting him, her face 
white with the horror of a nameless fear. 

“Yes,” he went on, falteringly, “ supposed ; for the feat- 
ures were unrecognizable, and the ring he wore alone gave us 
the right to infer the body to be Edward’s. But by a strange 
— a trivial circumstance, we were led to a wrong supposition. 
The ring the dead man wore was of course Edward’s, but it 
was not Edward who wore it. What caused that terrible mis- 


140 THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

take was this : The dead man, Harry Dali, had been admir- 
ing the ring just before the fire broke out, and had asked Ed- 
ward to let him try it on. Dali had just slipped it over his 
finger when the cry of ‘ fire ! ’ rang through the theatre. The 
flames spread rapidly and cut off their escape by the stage 
door, and the theatre was so crowded, that to perish seemed 
inevitable. How it happened that Edward escaped is a 
mystery. But when he was found next day amongst the de- 
bris of the burned building he was unconscious. Being a 
stranger in the city, no one knew who he was, for the rest of 
the company had all perished. Quite naturally therefore, 
when looking over the list of actors, they concluded him to be 
Harry Dali, while the real Harry Dali was supposed to be Ed- 
ward. When Edward had recovered sufficently to travel, he 
came on directly to Brooklyn ; and there, sis, the tale is told, 
and he is waiting to see you.” 

Agnes Bonnard did not speak or cry out. She had not the 
power to do either ; for very deep emotions, whether of sorrow, 
joy, or disbelief will rob us of the ability to express our 
feelings for the moment. 

Her brother opened the parlor door, and pushed her gently 
forward. An instant later she had entered the room, the door 
had closed softly behind her, and she was alone with the lover 
who had come back to claim her. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE BROKEN PROMISE. 

Agnes had heard Edward Hawley’s quick step as he rose to 
meet her ; and her name was uttered in a voice that thrilled 
with love and gladness. She saw his kind face animated with 
the joy of their meeting, his arms were extended to enfolcPher, 
yet still she did not speak, or move one step to welcome him. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


141 

Her eyes sought his with an expression of appeal in their 
solemn depths. He did not understand the look, but thought 
she was frightened to see him after supposing him dead. 

Drawing near, he raised one of her icy cold hands and 
clasped it closely in his ; she did not withdraw it, but it lay 
limp in his clasp. 

“ Agnes, don’t be frightened. Speak to me, dear; tell me 
you are glad to see me again,” he earnestly entreated. 

Still she did not speak, but her eyes were full of piteous ap- 
peal. 

He had got his arm around her, had drawn her close to 
him, and was about to kiss her, when she suddenly broke from 
his embrace. 

11 It is so long since I have kissed you, dear,” he said with 
a forced laugh, “ you have become quite shy. What must I 
do to accustom you to me again ? ’ ’ 

“ Act only as my friend, and cease to think that we have 
ever been lovers,” she said, placing her hand on his arm en- 
treatingly. “ Edward,” she went on with assumed calmness, 
drawing him toward a sofa, “ let me explain my meaning.” 

“ I want no explanation,” he rejoined somewhat impa- 
tiently. “ I only want you to assure nie that you still love me, 
and that you are glad to have me back.” 

“ I am glad to see you again. I have always loved you as 
a dear friend, Edward.” 

“ But I don’t want you to speak of mere friendship ; I want 
you to tell me straightforwardly that you love me. Why will 
you be so cruel as to pretend you have ceased to care for me, 
when my heart is hungering to hear you say : ‘ I love you ! 9 

Oh, Agnes, for the sake of the old days be kind ! With poor 
mother gone, I am in the greater need of your sympathy and 
love. Be kind, Agnes ! Say it ! Say it ! ” 

“Oh, Edward,” she sobbed, falling on her knees in front 
of him. “ I would to God, from the bottom of my heart, t 
could in all truth, say it ! ” 


142 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“ What do I hear, Agnes ? Am I to understand that you 
have ceased to love me?” he asked in a hollow voice, press- 
ing his hand to his heart with a low moan as though the pain 
were greater than he could bear. 

She raised her head and fondled his hands tenderly, pitying 
him so deeply that she was almost tempted to declare it was a 
joke ; but the thought of Dr. Wayne gave her the determina- 
tion to be strong whatever the cost. 

“ Edward, you must forgive me. Indeed, I am not to 
blame because my feelings for you are changed. I had always 
meant to love you, only you ! ” 

“ Agnes, oh, Agnes ! was it for this I returned? Was it for 
this God spared my life, only to curse it? Is the remembrance 
of our dear, happy days all of no consequence to you now, 
that you can speak of our lives in future as being bound only 
by friendship ? Do you remember how you used to love me — 
how your lips have met mine in fond assurance of your affec- 
tion, and now, suddenly, after only a few months absence, I 
return to find you changed. Can this be true ? Oh, Agnes, 
tell me it is not so ! Tell me that the little girl I loved as my 
very life, is still true to me ! ” 

“ I can’t say it ; I can’t say it ! ” she moaned in anguish. 

“ Then may God forgive you for your treachery; I never 
shall!” came slowly and wrathfully from Edward’s lips. 
“ You led me on as no honest woman would. You, whom I 
believed so guileless, so innocent, whom I would have trusted 
with my life, have inflicted upon me the crudest pang that you 
could inflict ! Had God Himself sworn you were false, I 
would still have trusted you ! If you found that your feelings 
for me were changing, why did you not tell me so honestly ? 
Do you recollect that night when I questioned you on the sub- 
ject ? Ah, you do? Do you remember too, how you came 
and put your arms around my neck and declared my doubts 
were all without foundation ? Oh, wretch, wretch ! and you 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 143 

can look in my face and say you are sorry ? Bah ! what care 
I for your sorrow ! My heart is broken — broken ! ” 

He cast her from him angrily, and mad in the bitterness of 
his anguish, walked up and down the room with" rapid strides. 
His chest heaved with sobs, and his eyes were blinded with 
tears. 

Crushed with grief over the misery she had wrought, Agnes 
had sank upon the floor in front of a chair, and with her face 
buried in her hands was weeping softly. Suddenly she was 
lifted to her feet and clasped to Edward’s breast in the old 
familiar way, and he was caressing and soothing her, his 
gentle heart full of repentance for his harshness. 

“ Oh, dearest,” he entreated passionately, - “ forgive me, 
forgive me ! You never deserved one word of reproach from 
me. I have been mad with anger ; this blow was so unex- 
pected. Remember that I had cherished you as my very own 
for so long that I thought nothing could ever come between us. 
As you have ceased to love me, however, though God knows it 
will be a terrible task, I must learn to look upon what is to be, 
in its true light ; I must think that what I may suffer will be 
for your happiness, for I’m not fool enough to suppose that you 
have ceased to love me unless your heart went into the keeping 
of another. May God bless both you and him , whoever he 
may be, for your sake, my lost darling ! ” 

He pressed his lips tenderly and reverently to her brow, and 
smoothed her hair, and stifled the sob that rose to his lips, as 
he turned hastily away. 

It is wonderful how grandly self-sacrificing human nature 
can sometimes prove. The noble and generous words Edward 
had spoken were not said without a pang of the keenest 
anguish. His heart was bleeding with the hungering passion 
he felt to possess her — in the very moment too when he had 
renounced her — as it had never bled before. And Agnes knew 
it. 

Yet just then she dared not, for the sake of that suffering. 


144 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


speak one word to him of his self-sacrifice. She knew that to 
do so would make him more unhappy. But, how her heart 
ached ! How unworthy she was of this man’s love ; how con- 
temptibly had she treated him, and still he was kind and 
loving toward her — God bless him ! 

When he had mastered his emotion and was preparing to 
leave, he said very tenderly as he stood in front of her : 

“ Never again, Agnes, trifle with a man’s affection. Re- 
member that all are not so weak as to forgive, and that your 
life may pay the penalty of a wrecked life and a broken heart. 
I don’t say this to reproach you, dear ; it is only to warn you 
of what other men might do in a similar case. Whatever my 
life may be, Agnes, I shall always think kindly and tenderly 
of you. Darling — good-by ! ” 

He gave her hand a convulsive grasp, and gazed earnestly 
into her face as though he were impressing every feature upon 
his memory for the last time. 

“Good-by?” she softly and falteringly said. “Oh, Ed- 
ward, not good-by ! You will come again to-morrow, will you 
not ? You are surely not going to leave us so soon ? Say you 
won’t ? ” 

“Oh, no; I’m not going away for awhile, Agnes. You 
will see a great deal of me yet,” he returned with a faint smile. 
“ Only we will never say good-by again as we will to-night, 
dear. To-night when parting with you I shall leave behind all 
that life contains of joy to me, for I must cease to think of you 
as I have hitherto done. To-morrow, or whenever we meet 
again, in parting we shall simply say ‘ good-by ’ as friends.” 

She was silent and very sad ; and he went on tremulously : 

“ Good-by once more, my darling. Oh, Agnes, Agnes ! I 
never thought to part with you like this. I knew not that fate 
had this bitterness in store for me, or I should have wished 
that I had died in Denver, where not even a tear from your 
dear eyes would have fallen on my grave. Don’t weep, dear ! 
It is better after all that I have found out now that you don’t 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 1.45 

love me than if it had been after our marriage. But — 
good-by ! ” 

He clasped her hands closely, and gazed at her with God 
knows what passionate longing in his heart and eyes to clasp 
her to his breast and kiss once more the idol of his life. But 
he controlled this desire. She was no longer his to cherish, 
and therefore he had no longer the right to disclose to her his 
deep devotion. 

“ Good-by ! ” she huskily returned, tears streaming down 
her pale face as she looked at their clasped hands. Then 
bending her head she pressed her lips to his hand, then re- 
leased hers from his hold. 

They had parted. With the blackness of death in his heart 
he had left her, and she had fallen upon her knees, crying out 
her unworthiness. 

His “ good-by” still rang in her ears ; and awoke in her 
heart the memory of that other “ good-by ” when he had left 
her to go forth into the world full of ambition and hope, and 
try to earn enough to make her his bride. God ! what misery 
and suffering that had both endured between that time and 
now ! And now too, with his return and departure the last 
hope that had lived in his heart was crushed and broken. But 
he would return again, and she would be compelled to look 
upon his face and speak to him without saying one word of the 
old days when they had been so happy, for his life was ruined, 
and by her. 

“ But, he will get over it in time,” she reasoned, trying to 
sooth the reproachings of her conscience. “ Yes, he will for- 
get me after a time and love some one worthier of him.” 

When Edward had left Agnes, he went to the dining-room 
where he knew Louis was waiting for him. Bonnard was 
seated before the fire in a reverie, evidently thinking of his 
lady-love, for a smile lit up his face. 

“ Ah, Edward, old man ! Is that you ? ” he exclaimed, as 
Hawley entered the room ; then, seeing how pale he was, Louis 
10 


1 46 THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

asked in astonishment: “Why, good God, man! what ails 
you ? ’ * 

“ Nothing ; nothing, I assure you ; I am quite well, except 
for a little pain here, Louis.’ ’ 

And Edward pressed his hand to his heart. 

“You won’t explain, I see — yet I know something is wrong; 
but Agnes will tell me,” said Louis, and he was about to leave 
the room to seek her, when Edward interposed : 

“ No, you must not speak to her now. Agnes and I thor- 
oughly understand each other at last. The double wedding, 
my friend, which you a while ago said might soon take place, 
will never be. Agnes has ceased to love me!” 

When he had began speaking his voice was quite calm, but 
toward the end it faltered and broke* 

“What!” exclaimed Louis, the surprise of such news' 
almost taking away his breath. “ Can this be possible? ” 

“It is true.” 

Bonnard stormed and raved in a terrible way over the part 
his sister had played, for he sympathized deeply Avith Edward. 
He would have gone to Agnes and £iven her a piece of his 
mind, but for his friend’s interference. 

“No,” the poor fellow said, “ you must not reproach her 
with what she has done. After all, it is for the best, and she"' 
is sorry enough, poor little girl ! You must promise me, Louis, 
that you will not be harsh with her. /was not. Then why 
should you ? ” 

“By hea\'en, Edward, you are a noble fellow ! ” exclaimed 
Louis, grasping his hand and giving it a hearty shake. 

“ Only human; nothing more.” 

“ Human ! No, by heaven, no ! Had you more humanity 
and less nobleness, you would have killed her outright ! ” was 
the fierce retort. 

“That is all nonsense. It does not pay to be revengeful. 
But now, good-night ! ” 

“Why, Avhere are you going?” remonstrated Louis. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 147 

“You know that your mother’s house is closed since her 
death. It is useless going there; remain here.” 

“ Well, I’ll think of it ; but I want a walk just now.” 

“Oh, very well; I will wait up till you return,” replied 
Louis, and he watched him depart with a sad heart. 

It was only when he was out of the house that the full force 
of his misery dawned upon Edward Hawley. He and Agnes 
seemed so utterly estranged now. Dismally musing on his 
unhappiness, he wandered along without caring whither he 
went. It was only when he found himself opposite the 
entrance to the bridge that he paused and wondered whether 
he would walk over it. The hour was late, but his brain was 
in that state when solitude, with noise and lights about, was 
what he needed. Toward the bridge he consequently turned 
his steps. 

It was a lovely night ; cold, clear, and with just enough 
breeze not to make it unpleasant. When Edward had reached 
the first tower, he paused and looked about him. He seemed 
to be the only one on the bridge for there was no one else in 
sight. He glanced at the many colored lights flashing and 
reflecting on the dark waves of the great river below. Then 
too, there was the flashing of lights of the cities back and 
front of him, and the stars gleaming in the deep-blue of the 
sky, like angel’s eyes watching over the world and breathing 
in their calm serenity the goodness of God. 

Yes, there were lights all around — below and above — but 
none was brighter than the light in his own heart. It burned 
there in pure, soft and tender memory of Agnes. 

“Oh, my dear one!” he softly murmured; “you were 
never so precious to me as now. My life was never such a 
blank to me before ! ” 

And he looked down into the dark waters below him with 
an aching heart. 

Shuffling-footsteps attracted his attention. Turning hastily 
he saw a small, thin man, with a fine, intelligent face fron? 


148 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


which a pair of gleaming black eyes stared at him in wild 
beseeching. Had the man been shaved and neatly attired, he 
might have been called good looking ; but he was dirty and 
ragged, and -his knees were knocking together. He was so 
greatly in need of the two things most necessary to him : 
whiskey and cigarettes ! 

“ Sir,” he said, coming up to Edward’s side and speaking 
in a tone of earnest pleading, “ for God’s sake give me the 
price of a drink ? ” 

There was something so truly pitiable in the man’s con- 
dition that Edward, without a word, handed him a quarter of 
a dollar. 

The poor fellow muttered his thanks, and was shuffling 
off in the direction of Brooklyn, when Edward, growing more 
interested in his new acquaintance, resolved to accompany 
him. 

This he did, and they walked along side by side, conversing 
on various subjects, upon all of which the stranger was remark- 
ably well posted. 

When they had arrived at the Brooklyn end of the bridge, 
the man said he must part with his benefactor now ; and from 
the way his eyes roamed to a saloon near by, Edward very 
readily conjectured the cause. 

“I guess I’ll join you, and have a drink myself,” said 
Hawley good-naturedly. 

“Do,” chuckled his companion, his eyes alight with the 
prospect, no doubt, of getting a few extra glasses. 

Louis Bonnard waited up for his friend’s return that night, 
but he waited in vain. The one drink Edward had partaken 
of in the tramp’s company was but the prelude to numberless 
others. Finding the man sympathetic, he opened his heart to 
him and related all his troubles; so drink followed drink until 
the poor, foolish fellow’s senses completely forsook him. 




THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT . 


H9 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE SAD CALAMITY THAT BEFALLS EDWARD. 

Keeping to the promise he had made, Louis did not 
reproach Agnes with the hypocritical part she had played in 
poor Hawley’s case ; at least he did not upbraid her in words, 
but the contempt with which he regarded her, hurt her far 
more than his anger could possibly have done. Then, too, 
how he repulsed her every effort to be agreeable ! For 
instance : they were seated at breakfast the morning after 
Edward’s return, and she had offered him some hot rolls. 

“ I don’t wish any,” he had said crossly enough. 

“ But they are delicious, and I know you are fond of them,” 
she went on, trying to overcome his ill-humor. 

“ How can you expect me to have an appetite, when the 
very sight of you is enough to put a saint out of temper? ” 

She was too much hurt to reply for never had he spoken so 
angrily-to her before. 

Edward’s failure to return worried Louis very much, and 
when even the second day had passed and he had not turned 
up, he became so anxious that he determined to begin a 
search at once for him. As he was wandering about the streets, 
puzzled what to do, an ambulance dashed past, and like most 
people anxious to find out what had happened, he ran at full 
speed after it. When he had arrived at the scene of distress, 
he saw to his astonishment and dismay, Edward lying upon 
the ground, unconscious. 

“Stay a moment,” he said to the surgeon, as they were 
about to lift Edward into the ambulance, “ this gentleman is 
a friend of mine. I will get a cab and have him taken to my 
home.” 


i 5 o 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


And thus poor Hawley was conveyed to Louis’ house, and 
Dr. Wayne sent for. 

The doctor pronounced the case one of fever, which had 
been brought on by excitement, unusual excess of liquor, and 
want of rest. 

All the while Edward was ill, Agnes nursed him incessantly. 
Indeed she would not even permit Estelle to attend to his 
wants — for that young lady with her father, had hastened to 
Brookly in response to a letter Louis had sent, stating all the 
particulars of Edward’s escape from death, and his present ill- 
ness. Yes, Agnes was ever near him, though it was the 
keenest torture to her to listen to him when he babbled of their 
unfortunate love affair. At such times she would clasp his 
hands in agony, and try to sooth his poor, wounded heart. 
But he resented her attempts to soothe him, and would turn 
his face away when she was about to touch his brow with her 
lips, as though even in his unconscious state, he knew that her 
caresses were those of pity or friendship. 

With an aching heart she saw him grow paler and thinner 
day by day, for it seemed to her that she was to blame for his 
illness. She wondered if he should die, yet shrank with dread 
at the thought when her eyes rested upon his face. Could she 
have known the miserable outcome of his illness, she would 
have prayed most fervently for his death, for his as well as for 
her own sake. 

But Edward did not die. He opened his eyes one morning 
to a state of consciousness. Alas ! it was only the pitiable 
consciousness of one bereft of intelligence. Agnes was as 
usual with him. 

“ Dear Edward,” she tenderly said, leaning over him and 
gazing into his eyes as they stared wonderingly up at her; “do 
you know me?” 

He hesitated a few moments in utter bewilderment, then 
said : 

“ I have never seen you before. Who are you? ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 1 5 I 

“You are dreaming or joking, Edward!’' expostulated 
Agnes sadly. 

He shook his head and smiled faintly. 

“No, I am not joking ; I have never seen you before/’ he 
reiterated. 

Agnes felt somehow inclined to laugh at first, but the solemn 
light in his eyes forbade such gaiety. And not knowing really 
what to do under the circumstances, she asked : 

“ Shall I tell Louis to come and see you?” 

“ Louis?” he repeated with a vacant stare. 

“ Yes. Perhaps you would like to see and talk to him? ” 

“ I know no one by that name,” he returned slowly. 

“Oh, Edward,” Agnes laughingly argued, “'how can you 
speak so foolishly ? How can you deny knowing us ? ” 

“I am very sorry if I annoy you ; but I really don’t know 
you. What is your name? ” he inquired, still with wonder in 
his eyes and voice. To gratify the desire she felt to see how 
far he would go with his jesting — for she regarded it only as 
that — ^he said very gravely : 

“My name is Agnes.” 

“Agnes? It is a pretty name indeed. And in what 
place am I. Has my mother had the house fixed ? Where 
is she ? ’ ’ 

Greatly alarmed now by his manner, Agnes went in search 
of Louis, to consult him as to what was best to be done. To- 
gether they returned to the sick room. 

“ Edward, my dear fellow, how do you feel this morning ? ” 
was Mr. Bonnard’s hearty inquiry. 

“Very well, I thank you sir; but I have been ill, have 
I not ? ” the sick man replied, as though Louis were a stranger 
to him. 

“ Yes, you have been very ill, my boy. Do you know me, 
Edward ? ” Bonnard tremulously asked. 

Hawley shook his head in the negative, very decidedly. 

Louis was sadly puzzled. It was no use that he asked Ed- 


152 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


ward whether he recognized Estelle, or even his uncle; in his 
perplexity, Bonnard consulted Dr. Wayne, who, after examin- 
ing Edward, explained that the memory of the latter years of 
his life was utterly gone. 

Those friends whom he failed to recognize, he very obe- 
diently called by the names they bade him ; and so it 
came about that he called the girl whom he had once loved, 
“sister Agnes” and regarded her in that light. The memory 
of all his sorrow and disappointment was as if it had never 
existed. He was a boy again ; noble and manly in his ways, 
but still a boy when he should have been a man. 

Agnes made herself utterly miserable worrying over what she 
believed to be her fault ; and the bitterest moment of all was 
when Edward himself sometimes detected her in tears, 
and sought to comfort her, although he did not know why 
she wept. 

She did everything within her power to make his life as bright 
as possible — interested herself in all his boyish sports, and de- 
fended him when he was made a butt by strangers and criti- 
cising acquaintances. And he loved her in his artless way 
dearer than anyone else. 

As he was his mother’s heir, he possessed ample means ; 
and under the influence of Agnes’s pleading, Bonnard, with 
the consent of Mr. Richmond and Estelle, made him an in- 
mate of his home — for Agnes had secretly determined to devote 
her life to him as a loving sister. 

But her generous impulses put her in an equivocM position. 
She was anxious to do what was right, but found herself sur- 
rounded with opposing elements. For instance : Dr. Wayne 
objected to having Edward remain as a member of her house- 
hold, saying that she would learn to love him through the pity 
she felt for him. And not all her associations to the contrary 
would make him believe otherwise. Even her great love for 
himself was not considered, as he affirmed she must care more 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 153 

for Edward anyhow when she was so anxious to have him 
near her. 

And thus she found herself constantly contending be- 
tween two emotions — her pity for Edward and her love for 
Dr. Wayne. 

4 ‘Yes/' Dr. Wayne had asserted in one of their conversa- 
tions, “ I perceive you care still for Edward. It matters little 
how miserable I am made through your fluctuating feelings, 
so he has the sunshine of your society. But I tell you I 
won’t stand this wretched pretense of love which is constantly 
torturing me with its doubts ! I won't be wheedled like a child 
into the belief that you love me one moment, and the next 
you are indifferent to me ! I want your affection in its 
entirety or not at all ! ” And then when he had seen her 
throw back her head evidently in cold indifference to his jeal- 
ousy, he had immediately begged her to pardon him and for- 
get what he had said. 

But his words were not so easily forgotten or forgiven. 
They stung deeply, and for a long time made her intensely 
miserable. Besides, she liked to make him regret what he 
had said, and so pretended she was angry with him. But she 
let her pretended anger go too far — and after trying in vain for 
a long time to win her pardon, Dr. Wayne at length desisted, 
and gradually the breach widened between them. When it 
was too late Agnes saw her error, but pride forbade her to 
explain. And so she let their affection grow colder, and the 
lovable and sisterly part she had meant to play toward Ed- 
ward was a task, miserable indeed. 

As for Dr. Wayne, he continued calling at her home, but 
he never spoke to her of love. One reason, to be sure, was 
because they were seldom alone now and therefore he had no 
chance ; another was her coldness ; and yet he knew she loved 
him. He could detect that in the very fact that her coldness 
was studied — her eyes never met his for any length of time, 
and the grasp of her hand had none of the firmness of former 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


*54 

times. But he knew she loved him, and she knew he loved 
her, so that while they were both miserable over their childish 
folly, they were also comforted with the knowledge of their 
affection for each other. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

<e YOU — YOU — HUNCHBACK ! ” 

However little a man may care for his wife, and no matter 
how unworthy he himself may be of her, still he will not sub- 
mit forever to her caprices. He expects her to uphold his 
name — at least after a manner ; and to see her attending balls 
and theatres in the company of another man, and by her conduct 
generally giving the gossips something to talk about, is enough 
to infuriate him. Yet he is not so angry with his wife, who by 
the way is the most generally to blame, as with the man who 
pays her attentions. 

Such were the state of Dr. Wayne’s feelings toward his 
wife and Moore. 

Long ago he had ceased to remonstrate with her. But his 
hatred and contempt for Moore grew fiercely intense. He 
could have thrashed him, but the smooth-tongued rascal gave 
him really no good cause for a quarrel. He was ever pleasant 
though he knew Dr. Wayne hated him cordially; and deep 
down in his own heart Moore returned the doctor’s hatred 
with interest. So to revenge himself he did all in his power 
to widen the gap between husband and wife. It was a mean 
revenge to be sure, but ©ne in thorough keeping with such an 
unscrupulous nature. 

Moore had no desire whatever for Mrs. Wayne’s love, but 
it had been a pleasant task to pretend that he cared for her, 
so he might boast to his friends of this beautiful woman’s in- 
fatuation. But the climax had come at last. Moore had long 
been debating whether it was not more profitable to be the 


the midnight elopement. 


ISS 

husband of a wealthy, but extremely plain-looking widow 
whom he knew — and whose money he might appropriate — 
than to continue paying attentions to Mrs. Wayne— attentions 
which were of no consequence to him financially. His de- 
batings ended in the belief that the wealthy widow was prefer- 
able, so he proposed for her hand and was accepted. 

Mrs. Wayne heard of his intended marriage through her 
husband, who had learned of it in this way : 

Dr. Wayne and Moore had met on the street, and the latter 
had greeted the former with his usual smiling pretense of 
friendship, requesting the doctor at the same time to congrat- 
ulate him. 

“ But why congratulate you ? ” Wayne had asked, somewhat 
surprised. 

“Iam about to get married.” 

“ Indeed ? Who is the lady ? ” 

Moore named the widow, and added, extending his hand : 

“ Will you not congratulate me? ” 

Dr. Wayne brushed his hand aside and said contemptu- 
ously : 

“ Well,, Moore, it’s about time you decided to make love to 
some other woman, than one who is married. Congratulate 
you ! No, I will not ! But I’ll say this : The lady who is to 
marry you is making a bad bargain ; she is far too good for 
you ! ” 

Instead of getting angry, as might have been expected of a 
man who had manhood enough to resent an insult, Moore 
only smiled blandly, as he returned : 

“My dear doctor, what an odd fellow you are to be sure. 
Why, my dear boy, making love to a married woman is the 
most sensible thing a man can do ; no fear then, when he 
tires of her, that she will sue him for breach of promise — 
see ? That’s the reason young ladies feel neglected now-a 
days, and married women win favor. Rather a reversing of 
how it should be, but a good thing for the men, and it’s sur- 


156 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


prising they didn’t know it hundreds of years ago; don’t you 
think so ? ” 

“ I daresay, men of your stamp always knew it,” was Dr. 
Wayne’s sarcastic rejoinder. 

“Ha, ha, ha! how very unamiable and disagreeable you 
are to-day. Really, it’s a treat to come across such goody- 
goodys as you. But, I assure you it’s a mistake to be excep- 
tional in any one particular, my dear friend, because one only 
makes a laughing-stock of one’s self, which isn’t very agree- 
able you must acknowledge.” 

And again his jeering laugh jarred upon the doctor’s ear. 
Greatly enraged, and feeling how contemptible it was to pur- 
sue a woman’s style of quarreling — yet having no actual cause 
to knock him down — which he felt like doing — Wayne ab- 
ruptly left him. Hastening home, he found his wife in her 
sitting-room glancing over the pages of a book. She looked 
up languidly as he entered. Something in his eyes attracted 
her attention, and she waited for him to speak with her eyes 
resting on his face. 

Dr. Wayne for perhaps the first time in his life, felt mali- 
ciously happy as he had news for his wife which would at last 
make her realize how foolish she had acted in caring for 
Moore. Also would it give him supreme satisfaction to see 
her vanity crushed somewhat. 

“ I met Moore a short while ago,” he began, “ he tells me 
he is going to get married.” 

He looked straight at her as he spoke to see what effect his 
words might have. The book she held fell from her hand 
upon the floor, and she half rose to her feet, gasping : 

“ Married ! ” 

“ Yes. Rather a surprise, isn’t it?” 

" A very great surprise. But one cannot believe all the 
gossips say,” was her cold reply. 

“ Oh, but he told me of it himself,” he said correctingly. 

“ In that case it must be true.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT \ 


*57 

She laughed uneasily, but gave no other sign that the news 
pained her for picking up her book, she settled herself com- 
fortably back in her chair. 

Dr. Wayne however had no intention of letting her off so 
easily. He had sought her with the idea of getting some sat- 
isfaction for all she had made him suffer ; and he meant to 
have it, too. 

“ I suppose he will cease coming her now that he is to be 
married ? ” he insinuatingly went on. 

“Dm sure I don’t see why. He is a very old friend of 
ours,” she quickly returned. 

“ Pardon me. He never was a friend of mine , nor did he 
ever come her to see me.” 

As this was the first time he had ever spoken thus openly of 
their domestic troubles, she was much surprised ; so much so, 
indeed, that for a few moments she could not speak. When 
she did, however, her face was flushed with anger. 

“ Since you assert that he does not come here to s ee you, 
I suppose you mean to insinuate that it is me he visits ? ” she 
questioned. 

“Yes,” he composedly returned, “I do. Can you deny 
it ? ” 

“ No, I do not deny it, since you really want to know. He 
is my friend ! — a very old and esteemed one.” 

This she said quite calmly, but her eyes were dark and 
stormy. 

“Is it not a rather unusual thing for married women to have 
such very dear friends amongst the opposite sex ? ” he icily 
inquired — then quickly added, as though whatever answer she 
might make was of no concern to him — “of course, whether 
it is or not, is no concern of mine, especially in regard to 
yourself; I simply ask the question out of curiosity.” 

He was standing opposite her, beside a window, the drap- 
ery of which he had slightly drawn aside, and when he was 
not looking at her , he gazed absently into the street. As he 


I5« 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT l 


finished speaking, he turned his eyes to the street, with a smile 
of contempt playing around his mouth, and waited for her to 
answer. 

But she did not reply. His words and manner exasperated 
her beyond expression. His boldness in venturing to speak on 
a matter which had been worrying him for years, really made 
her like him for that very boldness, a trait he had never be- 
fore shown in his character. 

An almost tender light crept into her eyes as she looked at 
him standing there so cold and stern with that contemptuous 
smile on his lips. Suddenly he turned and faced her, raising 
his eyebrows inquiringly. 

“ I see you don’t mean to gratify my curiosity.” 

“ A woman does not like to have her husband continually 
quarrelling with her,” she carelessly said, as though to imply 
that the conversation was at an end. 

“ But when have I ever quarrelled with you, unless it was 
when you made me the laughing stock of your male friends ? ” 
he hotly cried. “ Was I not lenient enough to your faults at 
all times in other directions, until you broke my heart with 
your cruelty ? What right had you to seek the friendship of 
such men as Moore, unless to gratify your love of admiration ! 
But, mark me ! the very men who have gratified your vanity 
will wound it — as a proof, there is Moore’s intended marriage ; 
and he was your most attentive friend and admirer ! ” 

She had no reply to make to this unexpected onslaught for 
she fully realized it was all true. After waiting a moment as 
though he expected her to say something, he went on : 

“ And you have been trying to inveigle Louis Bonnard to 
pay you attentions. He is too sensible to become infatuated 
with you, however, although you are blind enough to think 
so. He, and Miss Richmond are engaged to be married.” 

“ Oh, I have heard some such nonsense as that before,” she 
laughed, “ but Mr. Bonnard himself never said so, and wer§ 
it true, he would have told me.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 1 59 

“You believe he is so much in love with you that it is im- 
possible he would marry Estelle ? ” 

“Yes,” she said tossing her head back, and gazing straight 
at him. “I do believe he loves me. Indeed I know he 
does.” 

“ What proof have you of that ? Has he ever said that he 
loved you? ” scornfully asked Dr. Wayne. 

“You are asking questions which are of no concern of 
yours,” she retorted. 

“Oh, but I assure you they are of very much concern to 
me. A man must necessarily desire to know what sort of a 
woman his wife really is, when she permits so many men to 
make love to her.” 

“ Mr. Bonnard does love me at any rate,” she said. “ And 
were it not for you, he would make me his wife.” 

“Ah, so you think I am in the way of your happiness? 
Well, it gives me infinite pleasure to assure you that Louis Bon- 
nard would no t marry you, if I were to drop dead this 
minute,” he mockingly rejoined, bowing to her. 

“ And I tell you he would / ” she angrily exclaimed, rising 
and standing before him in all the pride and grace of her 
beauty. “ He loves me and I love him. But you prevent us 
from being happy.” 

“I’m glad I can prevent you from being happy! I’m 
glad of it, I tell you, for it’s some satisfaction for what you 
have made me suffer ! But, Bonnard does not love you. He 
wouldn’t have you, even if his heart were not bound up in 
Estelle. I know that ! ” 

And he took a fiendish delight in repeating, “ I know that ! ” 
some half a dozen times, so that he might view to his satis- 
faction, the effect it had upon her. 

Her face was ghastly with rage. She was trembling, and 
even her power of speech was gone for the time ; but when 
she spoke, she almost maddened him : 

“ What you say is false ! ” she screamed, “ He does love 


160 THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 

me, and you only say he does 7iot to torture me ! Oh, you 
devil ! You — you — hunchback ! ” 

Hunchback ! As the word left her lips, he fell back from 
her with his hands pressed to his head as though she had 
struck him and a low, sobbing cry broke from his lips, fol- 
lowed by others. 

She did not stay to witness the terrible anguish she had 
caused, but walked from the room in cold disdain. She felt 
no regret at the time for what she had said. 

Had she tried, she could not have wounded him more 
deeply than by reverting to his affliction. His sensitive heart 
was almost broken to think that his wife, the one who should 
have sympathized with him was the crudest of all human- 
kind. 

And again and again that low, sobbing cry of torture fell 
from his lips. An hour later, having mastered his emotion, 
he left the room, a changed man. His face was calm, but 
full of a stern resolution. He had determined to separate 
from her. 

Mrs, Wayne was now in a fever of doubt regarding Bon- 
nard’s affection for her. Moore’s intended marriage did not 
worry her much, beyond humiliating her vanity somewhat. 
But Bonnard’s affection was quite a different thing. Her 
passionate 1 love for him was, if possible, deeper than ever 
before, and she could not bear to think that he meant to 
marry Estelle. 

Wishing to know the truth at once, she hastily wrote the 
following note, and sent it to him by one of her servants. 

“ My dear Louis — I am tortured with doubts of your love. 
Dr. Wayne tells me he knows you intend to marry Estelle 
Richmond. Can this be true ? Oh, come to me, and set my 
miserable doubts at rest by assuring me that it is not 1 ” 

His answer was written on the back of her own note ; 

You may expect me this evening.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


l6l 

When she read it, although to be sure, there was no assertion 
to that effect in its contents, she went almost wild with joy, 
thoroughly assured, since he had said that he would come that 
evening, that he still loved her. 

What preparations she made for his coming ! Remember- 
ing how in their youth, he had liked to see her in a white 
gown, she attired herself in a soft, creamy cashmere evening- 
dress, trimmed plentifully with rich lace, and at her corsage 
she arranged a cluster of white hyacinths. Diamonds spark- 
led on her fingers, neck, and in her ears ; and in all her life, 
not once had she looked so supremely beautiful as she did that 
night. 

She grew impatient waiting for him. At every ring of the 
bell, she would go out into the corridor, and looking over the 
balustrade see if it were he. She' had given the servant orders 
to send him to # her sitting-room when he arrived, and so she 
had made it look charming with a bright fire, the lamp dimly 
lit behind its rose-colored globe, and vases of hot-house 
flowers. 

And thus she waited for his coming, with not even the 
shadow of a doubt but that he loved her, to mar her happi- 
ness. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A TERRIBLE PENALTY. 

As feverishly impatient as Mrs. Wayne was for Bonnard’s 
arrival, just as feverishly did he fume over his having to go 
now that the crisis of their love affair was so near at hand. 

It suddenly dawned upon him too that he had.no right to sit in 
judgment on her. What was he that he should take to him- 
self the right to crush her for the wrong she had done him ; 
especially when he had been saved from an unhappy life with 
her? He felt half inclined to write and tell her that their 


1 1 


1 62 


HE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


love was a mistake. He" would not then be a witness to her 
grief. But he had said that he would visit her that evening, 
and so, with a sigh, he resolved to hold to his promise. 

But, all thought of the revenge he would have in humilat- 
ing Mrs. Wayne gave Louis no satisfaction now. He saw only 
the contempt of such an action, and could heartily have kicked 
himself for even having harbored the thought. 

In an extreme state of nervousness he entered the house and 
was shown up-stairs. 

Harriet stood at the door of the sitting-room waiting for him 
as he came up and greeted him affectionately. Bonnard fol- 
lowed her inside, and having closed the door, turned to her 
and said as tenderly as he could : 

“ You sent for me?” 

“ Yes,” she returned, smiling with happiness, as she clasped 
one of his arms with both her hands and rested her head 
against his shoulder, “ I wanted to see you, Louis.” 

“I understand,” he said curtly, and although he did not 
repulse her caresses, he"received them coldly enough. “ You 
have some questions to ask me? ” 

“I only want you to assure me of your love,” she said, lay- 
ing one bare, white arm around his neck, and gazing at him 
with her eyes full of passionate affection. 

“ And supposing, Harriet — ” he removed her armYrom his 
neck, and laid his hands heavily on her shoulders, “that I 
cannot do so? What then? ” 

“ Pray, don’t joke over what is so serious,” she entreated, 
her eyes filling with tears. “ Don’t be cruel ! ” 

“ I don’t mean to be,” he rejoined with some feeling. “ I 
simply wish to know.” 

“ But why ? ” she argued. “ What is your reason ? ” 

Bonnard hesitated and wished from the bottom of his heart 
that something would happen to prevent him from telling her 
the truth. He saw now what once he had deemed so easy a 
task, and even one of no little satisfaction to himself — was on 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


1^3 

the contrary the most difficult he had ever undertaken, for her 
love for him was really sincere, and being tender-hearted he 
pitied her and hesitated, almost dreading the effect of the 
words he was about to utter. 

“ Has it ever occurred to you, Harriet,’’ he gravely said at 
last, “ that your love for me is a mistake ? Think of how you 
are placing yourself in the estimation of others.” 

“ You never spoke like this before ! What has happened to 
change you ? What has happened ? ” she cried, standing back 
a little from him, and gazing with a painfully eager gaze into 
his face, her own white with fear, as if half dreading what his 
answer would be. 

“You are doing wrong, and compelling me to do wrong 
also, Harriet, by continuing to love me in this mad fashion, 
for it cannot end in anything but misery and remorse,” 
reasoned Bonnard, a flush of shame mantling his face. She 
noticed it at once and spoke accordingly. 

“ I am doing wrong? — leading you astray? ” she said bit- 
terly. “So my love for you amounts to nothing, Mr. Bon- 
nard ? How very noble of you to tell me this.” 

Thus far she had spoken contemptuously, derisively; but 
now, as though the full depth of his words had only just pene- 
trated her understanding, she staggered forward and laying her 
arms about his neck, spoke softly and tenderly, with a trace of 
tears in her voice : 

“ Oh, Louis, do you know what you are saying? You have 
said that you loved me. And now, do you mean to blast the 
happiness of my whole life ? Oh, tell me that you love me 
still ! Take this terrible pain from my heart ! ” 

“ I wish to God I could say so, my poor Harriet,” he pity- 
ingly returned. “ But it is useless to pretend any longer that 
I love you, however I may have felt toward you once. Let us 
bury the past, forgiving and forgetting what each has made the 
other suffer ; and above all, let us be friends : Do you con- 
sent to this, Harriet ? ” 


164 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


Mrs. Wayne’s lips parted in her effort to speak, but no sound 
came from them. Her bosom heaved and she looked deject- 
edly at him — her hand pressed to her heart, as if to still its 
wild beating. 

“I have been foolish of course,” pursued Bonnard with 
much emotion. “ In seeking to gratify my heartaches of years 
ago, by making you suffer. But, I did not realize how intensely 
I had it in my power to do so. Had I known it, believe me, 
1 should not have tried to wound you ! I thought only of humil- 
iating your vanity. Oh, do believe what I say, Harriet, and 
try to pardon me ! ” 

He extended his hand as he ceased speaking, and with a 
litde moan of pain she caught it in both of hers and pressed 
her lips to it. 

‘ f And so,” she presently said, “ you have been pretending 
that you cared for me, only to see me suffer? To gratify, as 
you yourself have said, your heartaches of years ago? As if I 
too, had not suffered through my own wretched folly ! But I 
had thought that happiness would yet be mine. Oh, Louis, is 
my love then of no avail ? Can you not return it even with one 
half as much as I feel for you ? Look at me ! Am I not still 
beautiful enough to love? ” 

Involuntarily his eyes swept over her superb form. The 
tall, graceful, rounded figure was faultless. Her face was daz- 
zling in its beauty; her eyes full of tenderness, and a soft flush 
in her cheeks. The gleaming whiteness of her partly extended 
arms, invited him to accept of their caresses. Yes, she was 
beautiful indeed, but it was a beauty which only charmed his 
senses. Still, he felt that did he not love Estelle, it would be 
a very easy matter for him to learn again to love Mrs. Wayne 
as he had once done. 

“ It must be true then,” she continued, as he did not answer 
her, a that you intend making Estelle Richmond your wife, 
since you have not denied it. But, do you think she will ever 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 165 

love you as I do? Why, the silly child does not even know 
what love means ! ” 

Her voice was filled with jealous rage, but Bonnard only 
smiled faintly as he considered that Estelle’s love was pure and 
noble compared to this woman’s half crazy passion. 

Suddenly she knelt at his feet, and clasped him round the 
waist, lifting up her glorious face to him. 

“ Oh, Louis,” she pleaded tearfully, “ see how I am humil- 
iating myself! — begging and praying here at your feet ! Oh, 
take me to your heart again ! Love me as you once did, my 
own darling ! ” 

“ Harriet, think of what you are saying ! Do be reasona- 
ble,” Bonnard entreated earnestly. 

“Oh, I can’t — I can’t!” she moaned, piteously; “the 
strength of my passion eats into my heart and brain, and robs 
me of reason, yet I cannot restrain its power. I love you — I 
love you ! With all my heart ! With all my soul ! I will sacri- 
fice everything in this world only to be with you — only to be 
with you ! ” 

“ This is madness ! ” cried Bonnard impatiently. 

“I care not what it is — only say you love me!” she 
pleaded. 

“ I cannot , I tell you ! Why will you insist when you know 
I care no longer for you?” he angrily cried, disengaging him- 
self from her embrace. 

She arose and stood before him, staggering somewhat, as 
though her heart were utterly crushed. 

“You have been very cruel to me,” she said quietly enough 
now; “ cruel, but honest; a little too honest, I think. How- 
ever, it does not matter; but,” and she approached very near 
to him — and laid her hand on his arm — “ remember, that 
whatever ill you may hear of me in the future lies at your 
door. You have destroyed every womanly feeling in my 
heart ! ” 

She spoke most impressively, and long afterward when he 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, \ 


1 66 

recalled her words, he shuddered to think — “ What a fatal 
thing is love to such natures as hers ! ” 

“I am very, very sorry, Harriet — ” he began hesitatingly, 
but she quickly interrupted him. 

“Pray, don’t apologize; it is unnecessary and distasteful. 
We have but to say good-by, then our acquaintanceship such 
as it was, will be at an end. Henceforth we shall meet as 
strangers. Mr. Bonnard — good-by ! ” 

Very calm was her voice and manner as she extended her hand. 
But he did not take it at once. On the contrary, he came 
close to her and threw his arm across her shoulders with the 
familiarity that a brother might have used, his face quite grave 
and full of pity as he said : 

“You surely do not mean that we are to part bad friends? 
Ah, do not be so cruel ! I cannot bear to think that we 
must be as strangers henceforth. Tell me you are not angry 
with me ! ” 

“It is impossible to be angry with a stranger,” she coldly 
replied. 

“Well, I’m sorry, Harriet; I had not thought you were so 
cold and unforgiving; but you are just, no doubt.” 

u Thoroughly so.” 

“Good-by then,” he sadly said. 

“ Good-by ! ” she huskily returned. 

He had walked slowly toward the door, but ere he had 
reached it, she had stepped hastily forward and fallen upon 
his breast ; had drawn his face down to her own, and pressed 
her lips passionately and tenderly to his in a last fond caress. 
Then she bade him go. But as he closed the door softly after 
him, and her stifling sobs fell upon his ear, a sharp pang of 
pain smote his heart ; and he thought that after all, revenge 
was a pitiable thing at best. 

He realized now, that had he acted differently, he might have 
made a better woman of Mrs. Wayne. By friendship alone, 
since she loved him so dearly, he could have moulded hei 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. i6}r 

mind to respect what he respected. But having pretended 
that he loved her, and as she was married, he had had no 
chance to mould her into a nobler character. Like the ma- 
jority of people, Bonnard only realized when it was too late 
what he should have done. 

As for Mrs. Wayne, when she had recovered from her first 
keen pang of anguish caused by her parting with Bonnard, 
she began to think and look forward as to what the future held 
for her. And as she endeavored to pierce the obscurity noth- 
ing but dark and evil prospects greeted her. 

Where another woman would have tried to win her hus- 
band’s forgiveness, Mrs. Wayne sought it not. On the con- 
trary she blamed and hated him as the cause of her unhappi- 
ness. She hated him because she had married him, without 
considering that she had chosen him herself — hated him, be- 
cause he was resentful, and most of all, she hated him because 
he had indicated so well what had come to pass : ‘‘The very 
men who have gratified your vanity by pretending to love you, 
are the very ones who will wound it.” 

She realized now how very true the words were ! Alas ! the 
boiling, raging waves of retribution were sweeping over her ! 
How would they leave her? On a barren shore, with nothing 
but the throes of awful despair crushing her until her heart was 
broken ! 

Ay, this was a terrible penalty for all she had once enjoyed ! 
The knowledge that Bonnard did not love her was as bitterest 
gall to her heart. And she had been weaving such tender 
little pictures of what their life would be when they would 
have come together ! How often had .she fancied herself sit- 
ting in a prettily arranged room — not expensively furnished, 
that was out of the question, because they would not be able 
to afford it ; but just pretty enough to be cheerful to the eye 
as well as comfortable. And Louis would be lying on the 
lounge, lazily puffing at his cigar, and watching the rings of 
smoke as they curled upward. She wouldn’t in the least mind 


i68 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


his looking at the smoke instead of at her, so long as he held her 
hand and listened while she read to him. And thus had she been 
foolishly indulging her fancy on a subject which had nothing 
but a flimsy foundation. And now her heart was crushed and 
bleeding. Nothing but a life of misery lay before her until 
death might bring release ; and then ? 

“The human heart should be incapable of feeling, ” she 
reasoned, as she sat staring into the dying fire. “ The Creator 
erred when he made the heart susceptible of pain. It should 
only be an apparatus through which the blood passes to supply 
the system. In fact pain is a thing that should not be endured 
in any case in this world, or if so, why should there be a per- 
dition where we must suffer for having sinned here ? Either 
there is no perdition, or else God is unjust ! for suffering here, 
and then there, is too much ! ” 

She took off the pretty gown she had worn, and laid it 
carefully in her trunk, and placed the fading hyacinths with 
the two other cherished momentoes in her desk. But without 
looking at the little shoes and packages of letters she had 
kepts so long, she locked the desk again with grim determina- 
tion, whispering as she did so, with just a faint tremor in her 
voice : 

“Dead and gone forever are all my dreams; and so, I 
will never have need to revive any tender memories. Hence- 
forth, I want a heart to deal with as I have been dealt 
by ! ” 

It was midnight when she thought of going to bed. Hav- 
ing put out the light, she drew aside the curtains and peered 
into the garden below. The light streaming from a window 
beneath her, faintly lit up the surroundings and reflected on 
the dark ground the shadow of her husband standing like her- 
self gazing without. Having stood there some minutes he 
finally went away, and a moment thereafter the light was 
turned low. 

A queer laugh fell from her lips — a scornful, mocking, dev- 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


169 

ilish laugh that filled the room with ghostly echoes, and caused 
even herself to glance about as though some evil presence were 
near. She had conceived the idea of telling Dr. Wayne of 
her conversation with Bonnard, of giving him the satisfaction 
of knowing how true his words were realized. He deserved 
to know it, and it would give her such pleasure to have him 
taunt her with her folly. She wanted to be made angry ; she 
wanted some one to taunt her, and so take from her heart the 
maddening pain that tortured her. She wanted to learn to hate 
Bonnard, and she couldn' t do so until someone would make her 
feel really angry with him — and who but Dr. Wayne was so 
well adapted to do this ? 

And thus, with this half crazy notion in her mind, she stole 
softly from the room to his office. 

Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the house. Long ago 
the servants had all retired. But as she was about to knock 
at the office door, the sound of low', panting sobs — the more 
terrible because they were tearless — and interspersed occa- 
sionally with the word “hunchback/’ spoken bitterly, fell 
upon her ear, and stayed her hand. Evidently, Dr. Wayne 
had not yet recovered from the suffering of their afternoon 
quarrel. 

She drew back from the door with a feeling of almost pity 
stirring her heart. She forgot the mission that had brought 
her there in the yearning desire to comfort him. 

Noiselessly she turned the knob of the door and pushing it 
slightly ajar, glanced in. He was seated before the fire, his 
face buried in his hands, and pitiable sobs still breaking from 
his lips. Filled with a new, sweet, womanly feeling of pity, 
such as she had never entertained for him before, she opened 
the room door wider and stole to his side. Not until she had 
laid her hand gently on his shoulder, and she had softly spoken 
his name, “ Robert ! ” was he aware of her presence. 

He started and arose hastily to his feet — a blazing light 


I/O THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT ; 

leaped to his eyes as he saw who it was, and he demanded 
fiercely : 

“ Well, what do you want ? ” 

A pained look came into her eyes, for she wondered why he 
was angry when she had spoken so kindly. Then she faltered 
her voice full of appeal : 

“ I am sorry for what I said this afternoon. Won’t you 
forgive me, Robert?” 

“Forgive you!” he wrathfully exclaimed. “No, though 
my soul were doomed for it ! ” 

“ But I’m sorry for what I said,” she protested pleadingly. 

“ What you have said is spoken and cannot be recalled ! ” 
he cried. “ I would be obliged if you would leave me ; I do 
not care to listen to your expressions of grief ! ” 

“ You refuse to forgive me then?” she wistfully asked u } and 
as the question passed her lips, it suddenly dawned upon her 
all she might lose or gain according to what his answer would 
be. Now that Bonnard was false, and when her infatuation 
for him had cooled, she and the doctor might, from the ex- 
perience of nearly eleven years of suffering finally become at- 
tached to each other. Such might have been the case had Dr. 
Wayne forgiven and taken her to his heart again. But such, 
however, was not to be. 

“Yes,” he returned, “I do refuse to forgive you, madam ! 
Ah, God ! had you come to me years ago and spoken thus, I 
should gladly have said ‘ yes ’ and loved you dearer than be- 
fore ! But all these long years, during which you have wrung 
my heart with suffering — my heart mind, not my vanity — 
well, all this suffering has crushed out every atom of love I 
ever had for you ! It only remains now for us to separate, and 
so end what has been a miserable bondage ever since it was 
made. In a short time I shall relieve you forever of my pres- 
ence. You understand? Now, madam, I have the pleasure 
of wishing you good-night ! Nothing you can say or do will 
alter my determination in the least. Good-night ! ” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


m 


He bowed to her, and then walked toward the door, where 
he stood holding it open, waiting for her to pass out. She 
gave him one last beseeching look, but his face remained ob- 
stinately cold and unrelenting, and he permitted her to leave 
without saying one word. 

The door was closed softly behind her, and the bolt shot 
into its socket. 

A mist arose in her eyes. She realized with a bitter pang 
that henceforth they were utterly estranged ; but bitterest of 
all was the sad refrain : Oh, how different it might have been ! 

She was a wiser woman at last ; but of what avail was it 
now ? Alas ! all the wisdom in the world could not redeem 
the damage wrought by her folly in the past. It had all come 
too late — too late ! 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A TREACHEROUS FRIEND. 

“ Well, upon my word, I wonder what ails Louis for the 
past week?” wonderingly said Agnes Bonnard to herself at 
the breakfast table one morning, as she watched her brother 
leaving the house. 11 Here I have been exerting myself in 
every way to please him, yet he eats nothing, scowls as though 
something terrible had happened, and altogether is as disa- 
greeable as he can be. All too, ever since he received that 
letter from Mrs. Wayne — for I’m sure it was from Mrs. 
Wayne, because Robert would never have been so mysterious. 
Ah, well ! Estelle shall know nothing about it ! Poor little 
girl, she would cry berself sick if she thought Louis loved Mrs. 
Wayne. I declare it’s a shame ! Men all want perfection in 
women, yet they are not so particular as to their own lack of 
it. And more’s the pity too ! ” 

And as she ceased speaking a sad light gradually crept into 
Agnes’s eyes. But her thoughts were suddenly brought to a 


tf2 the midnight elopement. 

pause as the door-bell rang. Peeping through the curtains, 
she saw Dr. Wayne’s carriage standing in front of the house, 
and her heart fluttered wildly. Then going quickly into the 
hallway she listened as the servant opened the door. 

“Is Mr. Bonnard in?” asked the grave, deep voice of 
Wayne. 

No, but Miss Agnes was, the girl returned. 

A minute later Agnes was up-stairs, just as the servant was 
about to usher Dr. Wayne into the parlor. 

“Louis is not at home. Did you wish to see him about 
anything important?” Agnes asked, when they had entered 
the room and were alone. 

Her voice was very tender, for the pain and suffering in his 
face were not lost to her eyes, and awoke her deepest sympa- 
thy and love for him. 

“It is you I wanted to see, dearest,” he constrainedly re- 
turned, retaining her hand as she extended it to him. “Iam 
glad your brother is not in, for I want to speak very seriously. 
But tell me first that you forgive me for the foolish jealousy I 
harbored in poor Edward’s case. 

“Yes, yes,” she replied, almost in tears, “but you were 
very, very cruel.” 

“Never mind — it shall not happen again, pet,” he an- 
swered, gently patting her cheek. “ Now let us forget it, and 
speak of something more important. Come, let us sit here,” 
and he drew her toward a sofa. 

“In a few weeks, Agnes,” he began with gentle gravity, 
“ I will have settled all my business affairs, for I am going to 
leave this country. In some other land I shall seek to forget 
the miseries I have suffered in this. But I want a companion 
— someone who will love and comfort me for the remainder of 
my life. Will you be that companion, Agnes? ” 

He turned his eyes full on her face in the desire to see the 
effect of his words. Her face grew white and sad, and she 
clutched his hand convulsively as she gasped in a stifled voice : 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


173 


“ You do not mean this, Robert? ” 

He nodded assent, but still she continued to look at him in- 
credulously. 

“ Yes, my darling, it is all true,” he went on. “ The time 
has at last come for you to prove that you love me. Do you 
consent to go with me, dear ? ” 

“Oh, no, no, no!” broke from her trembling lips, as she 
put his hands aside. “You do not realize what you are ask- 
ing of me!” 

“ I am asking you to share my future — to be happy in each 
other’s love,” he returned emphatically. 

“ But there can be no happiness without marriage,” she re- 
monstrated with equal emphasis. 

He turned aside with a motion of impatience and anger. 

“That’s right,” he said, “bring all your obstinate argu- 
ments into play. Upon my word, I feel inclined to take my 
leave now, rather than listen to you. But — Agnes, you don’t 
mean to let me go alone, do you ? Oh, dearest, think of my 
deep love for you, and tell me you will accompany me!” 

“I cannot — I cannot!” she wailed; and then nestling 
close to him, she rested her head against his shoulder, and 
lifted her dark, eloquent eyes, burning with tender beseech- 
ing to his, as she said : “ But you won’t go — you won’t leave 
me, will you? ” 

Dr. Wayne sighed. He drew her to his breast and laid his 
lips tenderly to her brow, and for a few minutes neither spoke. 
At length, however, Wayne broke the silence. 

“ My dear, little Agnes,” he gently said, looking down into 
her tear-dimmed eyes, and caressing her cheek with his hand, 
“ our love cannot go on forever thus. We are both miserable, 
whereas, we would be happy were we together. If I remain 
longer with my wife, I shall go mad ! but with j you — oh, my 
little comforter, life would be a very paradise ! ” 

“Yes, it would be so to me too,” she panted ; “but it can 
not be — it cannot be ! ” 


*74 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


<( Do you mean me to understand that you refuse ? . „ . . 
I am not joking, Agnes. This is too serious a matter to joke 
upon. I have firmly resolved to leave this country within two 
weeks, so that your refusal to accompany me will not change 
my plans. But you won’t refuse, Agnes ? 

And Wayne softly touched the quivering lips with his own. 
She tried to extricate herself from his hold, but finally yielded, 
and let her head rest again upon his shoulder — whereat, Dr. 
Wayne kissed her again, and exultantly exclaimed : 

“ At last, my darling, you are indeed my own ! ” 

“ No, no ! ” she exclaimed, starting up, e ‘ I do not con- 
sent ! I will never consent ! Oh, I’d rather die first ! I’d 
rather suffer the greatest tortures that God or man could inflict; 
than be your mistress ! ” 

She broke from him, and walked unsteadily toward the fire- 
place. Raising her arms she laid them on the mantel, and 
resting her head on them, looked up at the portrait of her 
father where it hung above her. It seemed to her as she 
looked, that the loving eyes in the picture were entreating her 
to do right — so she smiled bravely in return, determined to do 
so at all costs. 

Dr. Wayne watched her with a pained expression. Although 
he could not see her face, he knew she was undergoing a 
terrible struggle, and he loved her all the more for it, though 
he did wish that she would accede to his plans. 

He saw the slender, girlish figure convulsed with great, tear- 
less sobs, yet he made no attempt to comfort her. He knew 
not what to say or do. The last word she had spoken dis- 
tressed him profoundly. Strangely enough he had never asso- 
ciated her in his thoughts even in that respect. The very 
sound of the word breathed of all that was loathsome, whereas, 
the purity of Agnes’s heart and soul had been the very means 
of awakening his mad love for her, and his natural desire to 
claim her as his own loving companion. And now, was the 
sweet hope which he had cherished all along, to be blasted ? 


TEH MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


175 


He sprang to his feet at the mere thought, and with his hands 
pressed to his temples as though his brain were bursting, 
walked rapidly up and down the room. 

Agnes turned and looked at him, and thinking he was angry 
with her, she stepped forward with the intention of entreating 
him to think kindlier of her. As she stood before him, her 
earnest, loving face alight with a sweet smile, he caught her to 
him in a passionate embrace joyously exclaiming, for he be- 
lieved she wished him to understand that she consented to his 
wishes : “ My darling — my darling ! ” 

Ere she could say one word to contradict his belief, the door 
opened and her brother entered the room. 

But for this interruption all might have gone well. Agnes 
would have reasoned with Wayne, and gradually perhaps have 
brought him to think as she did— or she could at the very- 
least refuse to agree with him, and so end entirely all the mad- 
ness of their affection — as much as never seeing each other 
again could end such passionate love. 

Agnes and Dr. Wayne turned hastily as Louis entered the 
room, and a cry of despair and misery fell from the girl’s lips. 
But Wayne, although his face grew white, remained silent. 
He threw back his head, and with his arm protectingly thrown 
across Agnes’s shoulder, returned the surprised and angry glare 
of Louis, boldly and defiantly. 

“ Well, sir,” thundered Bonnard, when he had regained his 
power of speech, “ what is the meaning of this? ” 

“It means,” slowly and distinctly returned the doctor, as 
he drew Agnes closer to him, “that your sister and I love 
each other.” 

“ What ! Can this be true ? Can you, whom I have loved 
and trusted as a brother and friend, have taken advantage and 
played such a treacherous part as this? Oh, scoundrel ! — 
traitor ! ” 

And Bonnard sprang forward, his eyes blazing and his hands 
clenched to strike the man against whom his rage was at white 


176 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


heat. But with a calmness and strength born from the depth 
of her despair, Agnes stepped between them. 

“Listen to me,” she said quietly and even commandingly 
turning to her brother, the expression of whose eyes grew 
sterner and angrier. “ It is quite true that Dr. Wayne and I 
love each other, but he has never by word or act treated me 
otherwise than as a gentleman would. I am really as much, 
yes, and more to blame, for — ’ * 

“Wayne, what sort of a man are you to let her plead for 
you?” fiercely and scornfully demanded Bonnard, thrusting 
his sister aside, and with folded arms surveying the doctor 
with a sneering glance. 

“ I have no desire to have Agnes intercede for me',” hotly 
retorted Wayne. “ Let us come to an understanding at once, 
if you please — I am ready to answer whatever you may wish to 
know.” 

“ Well, then, have you defiled her fair fame? ” demanded 
Louis. 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” wailed Agnes; but her brother bade her 
keep silent. Then turning to Wayne again, he repeated his 
question. 

“ I have not ! ” the doctor proudly answered. “I love her 
too well.” 

“ To what extent? ” 

“ To the extent that I have asked her to elope with me.” 

“ What ! ” cried Bonnard, “ elope with you ? ” 

“ That is what I said,” was the calm reply. 

For a minute, Bonnard could not credit his senses. The 
audacity with which Dr. Wayne answered his questions not 
only surprised, but awakened his admiration for the truthful 
way in which Wayne spoke. 

“What,” he at length said, “was her answer to that 
proposal ? ” 

“You hear, Agnes?” said Dr. Wayne turning to her. 
“ What is your answer ? ” 


7 HE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT . IJJ 

It is — /ztf / ” she faltered, lifting her dark, sad eyes to his 

face. 

“ Agnes, oh Agnes ! ” he moaned in a broken voice, 

“Now, Dr. Wayne,” interposed Louis sternly, “ you will 
oblige me by leaving this house — and at once. And remem- 
ber, hereafter you are never to cross its threshold. As for my 
sister, I will take good care that you do not speak to her 
again ! ” 

Dr. Wayne bowed coldly. He picked up his hat, and then 
glanced toward Agnes who was seated with her face in her 
hands softly weeping. Wayne made a step toward her, but 
Louis caught hold of his arm, and pointed angrily toward the 
door. 

Without one movement of resistance, or word of resent- 
ment, the doctor left the room. 

In spite of the harshness of Bonnard's treatment Dr. Wayne 
was not angry with him. He knew that he himself would 
have acted similarly if in Bonnard’s place ; but, of course, it 
was hard — very hard to bear. And poor little Agnes, how 
much harder it was for her ! Her brother would never cease 
tormenting her ; but that would only be for a short time — two 
weeks at most — when he would take her away for, of course, 
she did not mean it when she had said “no” before her 
brother.' 

Thus reasoning a smile lit the doctor’s face, and he pro- 
ceeded to call on his patients. 

Meanwhile, Agnes and her brother were talking the matter 
over. 

“ I never thought you could be so hypocritical and shame- 
less, Agnes,” Louis stormed when Dr. Wayne had gone. “ So 
this is your reason for refusing to keep your promise to 
Edward ? Oh, shame, shame ! ’ ’ 

She did not reply, but her tears flowed the faster. 

“ Everyone has regarded you as the soul of all that was 
good, true, and pure,” he went on, “ father had especially. 

12 


'78 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


and now — oh, I thank God that he is not alive to witness the 
fall of his idol, for he loved you as such, believing you were 
worthy of his affection ! ” 

“Oh, hush, hush!” she entreated, “I have done no 
wrong; I don’t intend to do any ! It is cruel of you to tor- 
ment me ! My father would not have spoken to me so ! — no, 
he would not ! ’ ’ 

“Father always was too easy with you, and this is what 
comes of it. Well, I shall know better than to trust you again. 
Henceforth I will see that you do not speak to Wayne ; and if 
he makes any attempt to see you in future, I’ll — I’ll fix 
him ! ” 

Bonnard shook his clenched hand angrily. Then giving an 
extra emphasis to his rage in good, round terms of invective he 
left the room, banging the door after him. 

Agnes was alone — alone now to reflect over the misery that 
enveloped her — alone to worry and try to pierce the blackness 
of her utter despair. She was never to see Dr. Wayne more — 
never to hear him speak, or even to clasp his kind hand again. 
In two short weeks, he would be far away, and in all the 
remaining years of her life she would have only the memory 
of one short year of happiness to look back upon. 

Poor Agnes felt as though she had committed some great 
crime, for which nothing was left but to suffer the penalty. 

Naught but suffering and reproach, remained for her now 
she reflected. But as she looked at the portrait of her loving, 
kind old father, and thought how differently he would have 
acted, her heart rebelled within her. He , understanding her 
so well, would have taken her to his breast, and soothed her 
grief, pain, and disappointment with a sternness that was pity, 
love, and gentleness itself; with a justness too that was 
sweetest advice ! 

The more she thought over this the more it grieved her. 
Yet she sat all day motionless, profoundly meditating over her 
sad lot. The servant came and told her that dinner was 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


1 79 


ready, but she refused both to go down for it, or to have it 
brought to her. Friends arrived, but she would not see them, 
and even poor Edward was denied admittance to her presence 
when he came to ask her to go for a walk with him. 

Altogether it was a miserable and gloomy day for her, 
though the sun shone brightly and the clear, crisp air was 
exhilarating. 

When she looked at herself that night in her mirror, her 
face seemed as though it had undergone the change of at least 
twenty years, so haggard and pale had it become. She smiled 
wearily as she retired, thinking, she would care no longer as to 
how she looked. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

AGNES’S DECISION. 

Louis Bonnard was bitterly angry with his sister, and he 
spared no pains to conceal that fact. On the contrary he took 
every possible occasion to taunt and provoke her. And poor 
Agnes felt as though she never desired to look upon human 
being again — and thought how peaceful it would indeed be to 
be either dead, or in some wilderness entirely alone. 

The first week passed and half of the second, yet not once 
had Wayne or Agnes seen each other. But one night Agnes 
gained her brother’s consent to attend church. As Louis had 
some business to see to, he could not accompany her; so 
having no fear that she would meet Dr. Wayne accidentally at 
night, he told her she might go alone. But Wayne had calcu- 
lated on this very chance. Aware that she attended church 
pretty regularly, he had waited for her outside. When they 
met, their hearts were so full of gladness they could hardly 
speak. He drew her aside, and entering his carriage, they 
drove slowly about for an hour — the duration of church serv- 
ice — discussing what their future was to be. 


iSo 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“ Remember, Agnes,” Wayne said, “ I am not going away 
for one or two or even twenty years, but forever. Now, 
darling, why will you persist in making us both unhappy by 
your obstinacy ? What need we care what the world may say ? 
People are not apt to consider what we think of their doings, 
then why should we be influenced by their opinions? Come, 
darling, say you’ll go with me.” 

He put his arm very gently around her, and drew her close 
to him. There was a smile in his gray eyes as well as on his 
lips that seemed to say : “I know you mean to say ‘ yes ’ but 
you want to be coaxed.” 

But having intuitively interpreted his meaning Agnes reso- 
lutely drew away from him, and declared most positively that 
she meant to do right. Dr. Wayne immediately became grave. 

“ Then you don’t love me,” he declared. 

“ And you,” she returned, “ don’t love i?ie } or you would 
not think of leaving me.” 

“ Oh, come, come, Agnes,” he impatiently interrupted, 
“ do be reasonable ! But seriously, darling,” he added more 
gently, “ I must leave this country ! Life here is hateful to 
me, and a change of scene would be beneficial — the best thing 
for me, in fact. But you must go with me ! Now, don’t 
shake your head ; I tell you, you must! Besides, darling, you 
couldn’t get along without me — of that I am quite sure. Why, 
my poor, little girl, even the short time we have been sep- 
arated, has made a most noticeable change in you. Think of 
what you would suffer were the time forever .” 

Forever ! the word rang dismally in her ears. A sharp 
twinge of pain convulsed her heart. 

“ Oh, I’m so miserable ! ” she sobbed, burying her face on 
his breast. “ I wish I could die ! oh, I wish I could die, and 
be at rest ! ” 

“ No, not die, my poor dear, only to be with me,” tenderly 
said Dr. Wayne. “ We would be so happy, dearest. What 
pleasure it would be to come home to you after attending to 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT i 8 i 

ftiy patients, and what happy hours we would spend reading 
and talking. 

And,” he went on, leaning over her so close that his breath 
warmed her cheek, “ we would never quarrel, my darling; no, 
we would not, I assure you. People who love and understand 
each other don’t quarrel.” 

A flickering smile passed over Agnes’s face, and she shook 
her head in disbelief. 

“I am sure we would be very happy, and I know we 
wouldn’t quarrel,” he positively affirmed, “because, when I 
saw the possibility of one arising, I should become apparently 
deaf and dumb on the moment. So you see there would be 
no chance of quarrels between us. Wouldn’t that be delight' 
ful? ” 

“ I don’t think I should like you to be quite so good. I 
would rather that you were master,” she smilingly returned, 
laying her arms round his neck. “ But I am sure I would be 
very happy with you, I know I would,” she gravely added. 

“Then you really mean to go with me ? ” he asked joy- 
ously, putting a hand on each side of her face and gazing lov- 
ingly into her eyes. She smiled assuringly. 

“ I knew it would come to this, darling — felt sure that you 
must in time yield to my love. But I am sorry your brother 
has found out about it. However we will soon end all your 
unhappiness.” 

She made no response, and seemed so sad that Wayne asked 
quickly with a sigh of pain : 

“Are you sure you don’t regret what you have promised? ” 

“ I don’t know what else to do ; I am miserable at home, 
and I love you — I love you dearly ! ” she returned, with a piti- 
ful break in her voice. 

He clasped her closer, and pressed a kiss of passionate love 
on her trembling lips. 

After a long silence, Agnes disengaged herself from his em- 
brace, and asked with deep concern : 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. . 


i§2 

“Have you made all your arrangements? Have you pro- 
vided for Mrs. Wayne?” 

“Yes,” he returned, “I have placed everything in the 
hands of an excellent lawyer, who will attend to it. Harriet 
will be well provided for, do not fear.” 

“ And — and when,” she faltered shyly, “ do you intend to 
go away ? ” 

“ In two days, Agnes ; but, why do you look so sad, dear ? 
We are not going to part.” 

“ I was thinking that I shall never see home again.” 

And although she tried bravely to restrain them, the tears 
would come. 

“I am a brute not to consider what you are renouncing for 
me, but I will be all the more loving and kind to you,” Wayne 
assured her. 

“ Dear Robert, I know you will. You are always loving and 
kind,” she sweetly returned. 

“You will remain true to your promise ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then as this is Sunday, you must meet me Tuesday night, 
as we start for our voyage on Wednesday. Can you arrange it 
so, Agnes ? ” 

“Yes,” was her determined reply, but what time must I 
meet you and where ? ” 

He mentioned the street and added : “ What time would 

be best ? ” 

“ Midnight.” 

“ Let it be so then,” he rejoined. “ And now, I suppose I 
must let you go, Agnes, or your brother will suspect something 
if you are longer in returning home than usual.” 

As Agnes acquiesced, he directed the coachman where to 
stop. 

When she got home, Agnes learned that her brother had not 
yet returned. She was quite thankful, as she was still nervous 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 183 

over her chat with Dr. Wayne. In the sitting-room she found 
Edward busily employed, sketching a child’s head. 

He looked up as she entered, and asked her to criticise his 
work. Having done so, and passed a few pleasant words with 
him, she finally seated herself before the fire and sank into 
deep thought. Her reflections were so sad that very soon the 
tears began to roll down her cheeks. She had forgotten that 
Edward was in the room, and therefore was somewhat startled 
when he came to her side, and taking her hands in a warm, 
tender clasp, asked : 

“ Dear sister, why are you so sad of late, and why is Louis 
so cross to you ? ’ ’ 

J‘ I cannot tell you, but I am very miserable. I shall die if 
things don’t change soon,” she returned. 

“ I wish you would confide in me, Agnes. I am sure I 
could help you,” Edward argued. 

‘ ‘ No one can help me. But you would like to see me 
happy, wouldn’t you, Edward ?” she asked, her cheeks flush- 
ing and paling with nervousness. 

“ Indeed I would.” 

“And — and would it grieve you very much were I to go 
away, never to return ? ” * 

“Oh, Agnes, I could never get along without you! ” the 
poor fellow cried, and sinking down on the floor, he buried 
his face in her lap. 

His grief was very comforting just then ; it was siveet to 
know that he at least would grieve when she was gone. But 
his grief would not last. It would not be the grief of a disap- 
pointed man, for his hope of happiness no longer lay in the de- 
sire of having her for his wife. Such was not within the range 
of his now smitten mind. But as the dear, loving companion 
and sister, whose one thought had always been to please and 
cheer him, so would he grieve for her — and yet in time, he 
would entirely forget her. Thus Agnes reasoned, and although 
a spasm of pain attested the sorrow of such a thought, still she 


the midnight dlopHMHNT, 


1S4 

was womanly and kind enough to appreciate his grief — such 
it was — to the fullest extent, and to try and reconcile him to 
the fact of her going. 

“Edward,” she gently urged, “ surely, you would rather 
have me go if doing so would make me happier — would you 
not ? ’ ’ 

“Would it really make you happier? ” he asked, looking 
up wonderingly. “ Can going away, and leaving the old home, 
and Louis and me, and all your friends, really make you 
happy? ” 

The question almost maddened her. She was so overcome 
with emotion that she could not answer him. 

“And,” he went an reproachfully, “you speak of never 
coming back. Oh, Agnes, how can you be 'So heartless ! 
Surely you don’t care very much, or you could not so easily 
renounce us all, for some mythical happiness which may never 
be realized.” 

“Stop!” she commanded almost sternly, “not another 
word! You must not judge of what you know nothing! 
Don’t you think I am conscious of all I am going to sacrifice ? 
Never to see the old home again where I passed so many 
happy, happy years ? Here, the sweet mother I never knew, 
passed away when she gave me to the world. I have grown up 
in the path of goodness and truth, or striven to, because I 
fancied I heard her advising me so. In this very chair too, 
my dear father used to sit while I knelt at his feet to say my 
infant prayer, or listen while he related some simple story full 
of nobleness, purity, and love, until my whole heart and soul 
burned with the desire to be like the picture he drew. He used 
to love and comfort me so when I was unhappy, but he is gone 
now, and I am miserable, for no one understands me, ex~ 


Her voice broke, and a low moan of anguish fell from her 
lips. When she had become somewhat calmer, she begged 
Edward not to tell anyone of their conversation, and as he 


THE midnight elopement. 


iSS 

promised, she knew she could trust him. Then, saying she 
was very tired, she arose to go, but when she reached the door, 
she came back, and laying her hands on Edward’s shoulder, 
said : 

“ You have no objection to my going away now , have you 
Edward ? ” 

“ You ought to know best, Aggie,” he gently returned. 

“ Say you hope I will be happy,” she pleaded. 

“I do hope so ; but, oh, Aggie, I trust you will not go.” 

She w^s silent a few moments, then replied : 

“If ever people say anything bad about me, will you re- 
member that I always tried to do what was right, and that I 
never would have gone away only I am so unhappy here? ” 

“ You always do what is right, Agnes,” he gently returned. 

She shook her head sadly. 

“ But tell me you will think kindly of me in any event? ” 
she huskily said. 

“I will indeed,” he assured her, “ and love you too, my 
sister ! ” 

“You are so good,” she said, gratefully pressing his 
hands. 

Five minutes later she was in her own room, weeping, and 
moaning in a heartbroken way. 

“Oh, why,” she reasoned, “was I ever born? Or why, 
having been born, should I be cursed with such a passionate 
nature ! Oh, father, father, if you were only here to comfort 
me ! ” 

Although she had pleaded weariness as her excuse for re- 
tiring, it was long past midnight ere she went to bed. Her 
brain was busy weaving plans of what the future would be, 
while at the same time she was worrying over her coming de- 
parture from the home she had never been away from even for 
a week. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


m 


CHAPTER XXY. 

THE ELOPEMENT. 

Tuesday morning dawned dull, dark and cloudy; and 
though it did not rain during the day, there was every indica- 
tion of the setting in of a violent storm. 

As evening advanced the wind grew stronger, the clouds 
thicker and blacker, until finally the rain came down in tor- 
rents. 

With a dull, aching heart, Agnes Bonnard stared out into 
the dark, tempestuous night, and shivered as she saw that the 
storm gave no promise of abating. 

It would have been some consolation were it a clear night, 
while now — was the storm an omen of what her future was to 
be? 

She had packed everything she intended to take with her— 
not very much, but still enough to fill a small valise — a change 
of clothing, her toilet articles, and several handkerchiefs. 
Having done this, she had overlooked a great number of letters 
and other treasured things. 

She picked up one article after another and placed them in 
different piles. To the right she put the things she meant to 
take along — to the left was thrown what she no longer would 
use. 

The first article she selected was a small, gilt-edged bible 
with a silver clasp. Decidedly that must go with her. It had 
been treasured for so many, many years now, that she could not 
bear to part with it ; beside it was a gift from her father and 
therefore was very dear. She threw aside many letters from 
old friends — nearly all of whom had somehow or other broken 
friendship with her. She sighed as she thought how she had 


the midnight Elopement. 18? 

fctierished these same friends, had helped many of them, and 
yet when she was no longer of any use, how quickly the ma- 
jority had forgotten her. But one friend had remained true — 
had understood and loved her. The photograph of this one 
slipped from between the leaves of a little book and fell into 
her lap. It was the picture of a grave, intellectual-looking 
woman of middle age. On the back of the card was written 
in firm, delicate handwriting : “ Sincerely your friend,” and 

beneath was inscribed the name of the writer. Also on the 
fly leaf of the book was written in the same handwriting : 
“ Presented to Agnes Bonnard, from her teacher,” then fol- 
lowed the name and date. 

Agnes tenderly fondled this relic of her school-days and re- 
membered with pride how she had worked for it for six long 
months. She carefully replaced the picture between the leaves 
of the book and a tear rolled down her cheek as she reflected 
that this dear friend who had instructed and formed her char- 
acter to a great extent, she would never see again. She laid 
the little volume beside her bible. Then followed a collection 
of all her jewelery — and portraits of her father, brother, and 
Edward which she added to what she had already selected. 

After much thought she decided to destroy Edward’s letters, 
believing it best to do away with all that had been so sadly 
connected with him. 

Having completed her task she spent the evening with her 
brother and Edward in the cosy little sitting-room. At ex- 
actly nine o’clock, however, she arose to retire. Her voice 
was scarcely above a whisper as she bade them “ good-night.” 

They returned it wonderingly, for her cheeks were burning 
and her eyes tear-dimmed. 

As she left them a throb of intense pain and misery shot 
through her heart. 

She hastened to her room, and having lit the lamp, pro- 
cured writing materials and paper from her desk and seated 
herself; she must write and bid her brother and Edward fare- 


188 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


well ; but although she only wished to say a few words, she 
began her note half a dozen times at least, and as often tore 
it to pieces. It was therefore almost eleven o’clock when she 
had completed it to suit her. 

“ Ten minutes of eleven,” she murmured in affright, “ and 
they have not yet retired. Oh, what shall I do ? What shall 
I do if they are not asleep by the time I must go? ” 

And this thought preyed so upon her mind, that she had 
hardly spirit enough left to dress. At length, however, about 
quarter past eleven, the welcome sound of their footsteps com- 
ing up stairs, greeted her ear. Hastily, she turned down the 
light so that they would not see it through the keyhole or under 
the doorway. As they passed her door, she heard her brother 
say : 

“ Agnes must have had a head-ache ; she didn’t look well 
to-night.” 

“ I think so, too,” returned Edward. “ She went to bed 
very early.” 

Not until they had said “ good-night ” as they separated at 
the end of the passage to go to their different rooms, did she 
breathe freely. 

In a little while thereafter she was ready to go, but as she 
heard her brother moving about, (he occupied the room next 
to hers) she did not dare move. Even while dressing she had 
to be most careful not to make a noise for fear he would hear 
her. 

' Anxiously she watched the clock and listened. It was now 
a quarter of twelve and Louis was still awake. She tried to 
think and wondered if he would care very much about her 
going away ; it was hard to believe that he would not, but she 
resolutely refused to think that he would. Of course he 
would be angry, yes, furiously angry, but in a few months, or 
more likely, a few weeks, he would regard her as dead and 
Estelle would occupy his every thought. Yes, that would be 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 189 

it — he would marry Estelle, and she would be looked upon as 
dead ! 

She choked back a sob, and as everything had grown per- 
fectly still, she walked to the window, and drawing aside the 
curtain looked out. What a dark, stormy night it was ! The 
rain was still coming down in torrents, the wind too was wild 
and mournful, and as it swept against the quaint-looking trees 
and waved their branches toward the house, it seemed to 
Agnes as if a hundred arms were motioning her to remain. 
She shrank back with a shudder of superstitious terror. 

The clock just then struck twelve, but though she was late, 
she knelt down beside the bed and whispered a prayer for the 
happinnss of those she was leaving. 

She laid her burning face and hands for a few moments on 
the cool casing of the pillows, and almost wished that she was 
going to bed instead of out into the darkness and storm and 
wet. 

But she had no time to delay now. So, hastily arising, she 
put on her long, dark cloak, and a hat that had a thick veil 
arranged about it, which she could use in case of necessity. 
It took but a few moments more to slip on her rubbers and 
blow out the light. Carefully opening the door <3f her room, 
she listened — then with her valise gripped tightly in one hand, 
she slipped quietly out closing the door behind her. Every- 
thing was dark and silent, but as her rubbers prevented her 
steps from being heard, and as she knew the surroundings 
perfectly, all went well until she reached the foot of the stairs, 
when suddenly something rubbed against her foot. For a 
moment she nearly fainted with fear. Her heart almost ceased 
beating, and then went thumping wildly in relief, as an en- 
treating “ me — aw,” accompanied with another rub against 
her foot, revealed the cause of her alarm. It was only a stray 
cat that had sought refuge in the house from the storm. 

Pausing a moment to pat the poor animal’s head, Agnes 
went forward to the hall door. Softly she slipped back the 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


19O 

bolts and latch, and opened it. A gust of wind and rain blew 
in upon her and made her shiver. Must she go out into that 
terrible storm ? She reflected a moment. No, it was too late 
to linger now. Robert would be waiting for her, wondering 
at her delay. She must press out at all hazards, so clos- 
ing the door, she gathered up her skirts and stepped bravely 
forward. 

The click of the gate as she opened and closed it, made 
quite a noise. But the sound was drowned in the roar of wind 
and rain. She cast one last look at the old home, a look full 
of sadness and tenderness — yes, and even of regret. Not un- 
til now, when she realized that already she was forever es- 
tranged from that dear home, did the full force of her loss 
dawn upon her. 

Out in the pouring rain, with her heart almost bursting with 
grief, and her mind full of uncertainty as to the future — 
though she loved Wayne tenderly — a longing desire came to 
poor Agnes to be back once more in her cozy little room. It 
was a longing mostly the result of physical discomfort; and 
the reflection that it was now an impossibility to return almost 
maddened her. In her anguish she sped away from the spot 
— on through the darkness and storm, like one bereft of her 
senses. 

Not until she arrived at the place where Wayne had agreed 
to meet her did Agnes cease running. But what was her sur- 
prise, even chagrin to discover that he was not there. She 
wrung her hands in silent agony and wondered and dreaded 
what his failure to appear meant. 

Thus thinking, Agnes crouched against the door of one 
the houses to shield herself as much as possible from the fury 
of the storm. 

In the meantime, Dr. Wayne had been almost similarly en- 
gaged until nearly twelve o’clock, as Agnes had been before 
leaving home. Ere he shut himself up in his office he gave his 
coachman the following instructions. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


191 

“ Now, recollect, Joe — tell the gill to say I am not at home 
— mind to all callers — and have the carriage at the door at ex- 
actly ten minutes to twelve. You will then drive to a place I 
shall name, after which you will follow later instructions. Now, 
mind ! Be smart about what you are to do ! ” 

“ Yes, sir,” Joe had returned with a surprised stare, and 
then had quitely gone about his business, wondering if his 
master was not a little bit off. 

“ It’s no use being there before twelve, as Agnes will not 
come until then on account of the storm,” Wayne solilo- 
quized. 

As he had made all his arrangements, Dr. Wayne seated 
himself at his desk, and having written to his lawyer, he pro- 
ceeded to write to Mrs. Wayne. His letter to her read : 

“ Madam ; — You have expressed the wish that you would you were freed 
from your marriage, and I am obliging enough to annul what has been a 
most disagreeable bondage to us both. If you desire to sue for a divorce, 
pray, do so ; I shall not interfere. Henceforth my life shall be lived in a' 
land far from here — away from ajl the miseries of the past, for the 
happiness I shall realize in the love of one who honestly returns my 
affection. 

“ I have provided for your future through Lawyer , and from 

him you can receive your income quarterly or in any way you desire. 

“ Good-by ! Now that you are free, you will perhaps give me credit 
and thank me in your heart for having done one kind act at least. Hop- 
ing you will now be satisfied I sign myself for the last time : 

“ Your husband, 

“ Robert Wayne.” 

The note was curt, satirical and reproachful, and Wayne’s 
feelings corresponded with the way in which he wrote. After 
reading it over once or twice with a grim smile, he enclosed it 
in an envelope and addressed it. At exactly ten minutes of 
twelve he opened the house door. The carriage was waiting, 
and Wayne sprang quickly in, after giving Joe his direc- 
tions, and in another minute, it was driven rapidly from the 
spot. 


192 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT \ 


Dr. Wayne glanced back as the vehicle started, but unlike 
Agnes, feeling regret at leaving his old home, he was joyous. 

“ Good-by, tcf misery forever ! ” he almost shouted in his 
glee. 

In five minutes the carriage stopped and he sprang out. 
Simultaneously, Agnes, relieved of her anxiety, came forward 
shivering and wet from her poor place of shelter, to meet 
him. 

“What delayed you?” she asked somewhat reproachfully, 
clasping his hand. “ I thought you were to have been here at 
twelve exactly ? ” 

“It is only that, now,” he returned, as he helped her into 
the vehicle, sprang in after her, and said to Joe ere he closed 
the door : “ New York, Hotel.” 

“ It must be half-past twelve as it was after twelve when I 
left home, and I have been waiting such a long time,” she 
remonstrated as the carriage started. 

“My poor dear!” he returned pityingly. “But really, 
Agnes, it is only twelve. Look, if you discredit my word ! ” 
And he drew forth his watch. Sure enough the hands were 
both almost on the mark of twelve. 

“Well!” said Agnes, then suddenly broke into a faint 
laugh. 

Dr. Wayne, somewhat surprised, demanded the cause. 

“In the excitement and misery of leaving home,” she 
gravely replied, “I forgot that I had made the clock half an 
hour fast, so as to get the boys to bed and asleep before I ven- 
tured out.” 

As Wayne looked at Agnes’s face, as she leaned against the 
cushions of the carriage, he could see it was sad and quiver- 
ing. He longed to comfort and caress her, but something in 
her manner, as she sat so still and sorrowful, forbade him to 
even speak to her. 

He endeavored to get interested in the swift passing street, 
lamps, and houses, but could not, so his gaze wandered back 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


193 


again to Agnes’s face. To his great distress, he saw the tears 
rolling down her cheeks. Unable to witness this without try- 
ing to comfort her, he clasped her hands warmly, and whis- 
pered tenderly : 

“ Be brave, darling.” 

“ You must think me very childish and foolish,” she said 
between her sobs, “but, oh, you don’t know how this all 
makes my heart ache. You don’t know what misery it is, 
when after trying' to do right, and having been proud 
of having done so, one suddenly yields up all one’s high 
principles ! ” 

“ I know — thoroughly understand you, dear Agnes, and love 
you the more for your grief in parting from those with whom 
you have spent your life. You do not seem to understand, 
however, that my love for you is the love of a man who seeks 
a chaste, loving woman for all time.” 

And speaking thus, he drew the slender figure close to him. 
But she struggled out of his arms in an instant, and said 
sadly : 

“It is kind of you to speak thus, but the fact remains nev- 
ertheless. Remember that I loved you with my whole heart 
when I consented to this, as I shall love you all my life ! 
And oh, Robert, if you don’t always love me, I shall die — I 
know I shall ! ” 

She nestled close to him again, weeping- bitterly ; and 
Wayne pillowed the poor, aching, little head on his breast, 
and soothed her with the gentleness he would have shown to 
an infant. His sight was blurred with tears as he endeavored 
to comfort her — and to think that this dear little woman loved 
him better than her own life ! 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE DAY AFTER. 

The morning following Agnes’s elopement, her brother and 
Edward made their usual appearance at eight o’clock in the 
dining-room, and were greatly surprised to find that she had 
not yet been down. 

Remembering how she looked the night before, Louis con- 
cluded she might be too ill to leave her room. Accordingly 
he said he would go up and see if such were the case. But 
as he left the dining-room Edward muttered ; 

13 


194 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“I know she has gone; something seems to tell me so. 
Oh, Agnes ! dear sister ! why did you leave me ? ” 

And the poor fellow, quite overcome with his emotions, 
sank back upon a chair and buried his face in his hands. 
Still some hope lingered in his simple heart. He listened 
eagerly as Louis knocked repeatedly at the door of Agnes’s 
room. But unable longer to restrain his suspense, and won- 
dering at the strange silence that reigned throughout the house, 
Edward determined to investigate personally. 

He went up-stairs. 

The door of Agnes’s chamber stood ajar. Knocking softly, 
and receiving no answer, he entered the room. The sunlight 
was streaming gayly in through the L>lue and white curtains, 
but although conscious of the pretty effect it had, his eyes 
were instantly turned to where Bonnard sat in an arm-chair, 
with one hand to his breast, while the other grasped the letter 
Agnes had addressed to him. 

Louis looked up as Edward came in, but his eyes revealed 
nothing. It seemed as though he were completely stunned. 
After passing his hand slowly and vaguely across his forehead 
several times, he laughed in a foolish sort of way, and then 
said to Edward : 

“ Well, old fellow, she’s gone ! ” . 

“ Gone ! ” repeated Hawley in a gasping voice, and stag- 
gering like a drunken man. 

“Yes,” thundered Bonnard, suddenly leaping to his feet, 
his eyes gleaming with rage ; ‘ ‘ gone — and with that cursed 
traitor, Wayne ! ” 

As though the very thought of Wayne drove him frantic 
Louis picked up one of the prettily-adorned chairs, and with 
it smashed the mirror, lamp, and indeed everything breakable. 
This not having satiated him, he threw her books about the 
room heaping the bitterest curses on her. Edward was too 
much stunned by Bonnard’s anger, as well as too greatly 
overcome with- grief over Agnes’s disappearance to interfere. 
It was only when the maddened man had reseated himself, 
and was looking at the letter again, that he ventured to speak. 

“ What does she say? ” he asked gently. 

“Oh, she has written a fine letter — a very fine letter I as- 
sure you, my boy,” sneered Bonnard, bitterly. “ She begs 

me not to be very angry — her heart is bound up in Wayne 

curse him ! — and she could never be happy away from him. 
She knows she doesn’t deserve to be forgiven, therefore doesn’t 
ask forgiveness, but implores us to pray for her future happi- 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


195 


ness and pity her for her weakness. Pity her ! Pray for her 
happiness!” Bonnard angrily cried. “Good God! Did 
she kneel at my feet and beg me to take her to my heart 
again, I think I should long to kill her ! She deserves to suf- 
fer for this, and, by heaven, I hope she will ! ” 

Edward made no reply, and for some time they were silent. 
Then Bonnard again spoke : 

“ Edward,” he huskily said, laying hishandson his friend’s 
shoulders, “my poor fellow, shake hands with fne ! She’s 
done you an abominable wrong, old chap ! But cheer up ! 
She’s not worth one thought of regret, and we must think 
of her no more ! Come, my boy, don’t worry over her loss ! ” 

Edward had not the slightest idea of what Bonnard meant 
by saying Agnes had done him an abominable wrong, but 
supposed he meant that she had wronged him by going away 
as she had her brother. The past was still a blank to him. 

“ But,” he remonstrated, “Agnes told me she was miser- 
able here, and she meant to go away. If she can be happy by 
so doing, as she told me she believed she would be, I am glad 
for her sake that she has gone.” 

“She told you that she intended going away ? ” 

Edward nodded assent. 

“ Oh, you blockhead ! ” roared Bonnard. “ Why didn’t 
you tell me of this ? Had you done so it might have been 
prevented ! While now — oh, God — it’s too late ! ” 

In his rage he could have killed Edward, had he not remem- 
bered the state of the poor fellow’s mind. 

“ I didn’t know I was doing wrong,” Edward stammered. 
“ She made me promise not to tell you.” 

“It is too late now, so it doesn’t matter. But, I wish to 
heaven she had died ere she met that scoundrel, Wayne ! ” 
was Bonnard’s fierce rejoinder. 

“ Wish Agnes had died ! Oh, Louis, how can you speak 
so heartlessly ! ” said Edward with tears in his eyes. 

Touched at the sight of his grief, Bonnard spoke more gently. 

“ My poor, old Edward, you don’t understand, or you 
would in your anger wish so to. Ah, old fellow, it’s a foolish 
thing for a man to put his trust in any woman — even in his 
own sister, for one never knows when they will prove false. 
Now leave me, my boy, for I want to think and be alone.” 

With a sad glance about the room as though he were bid- 
ding farewell to happiness forever, Edward departed. When 
he had gone, Louis sank into a chair, and covered his face 
with his hands. 


196 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


It was all over now ! His anger was as nothing compared 
to his grief. He could have wept in the terrible agony that 
beset him. So Robert Wayne — the man to whom his heart 
had gone out in love and friendship, was the cause of his sis- 
ter’s downfall. There was some excuse for Agnes. She loved 
Wayne, and knowing the man he could understand and sym- 
pathize with her for her folly, although he had tried to make 
her give him up. But for Wayne there was no excuse. How- 
ever dearl/ he might love Agnes, he was quite aware of the 
contemptible position in which he would be placing her, and 
therefore should have acted differently. Besides, he should 
have considered his wife. True, they cared nothing for each 
other ; still, she bore his nanje. And although she had tor- 
mented him ever since their marriage with a thousand carping 
acts, which annoyed and irritated, and turned his heart 
against her, yet she had not utterly forgotten her duty toward 
him. She was not devoted to him it was true, and circum- 
stances had a great deal to do with her fidelity, but still — 

And innumerable excuses and apologies for her surged up in 
Bonnard’s mind. In his pity, he longed to go and tell her 
that he sympathized with her, and prove himself her friend. 
Half an hour later found him at the door of her house, in- 
quiring for her. 

The servant conducted him to the parlor, then left him to 
tell Mrs. Wayne. In a very little while she returned and said 
her mistress would soon be down. 

The minutes passed slowly ; first ten, then fifteen, and 
Bonnard gradually became impatient for Mrs. Wayne’s appear- 
ance. He was just wondering whether she had forgotten him ; 
when the door opened, and she entered. 

She was very pale and seemed excited, but Bonnard thought 
he had never seen her look so beautiful as then. In her dress 
of dark blue cloth the delicate complexion was brought out in 
bold relief. 

Bonnard bowed gravely to her, but did not speak. He 
knew not what to say. She came to his aid. 

“This visit is unexpected, Mr. Bonnard,” she constrain- 
edly said, “and you have come in a time of trouble. Dr. Wayne 
has left me.” 

“Yes,” she added as he did not reply, and she sank into a 
chair, “ my husband has left me.” 

“I am extremely sorry — ” Bonnard began, finding his 
voice at last, but she raised her hand with a gesture command- 
ing silence. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 197 

“Pray, Mr. Bonnard, don’t make use of unnecessary- 
expressions. Besides, I don’t want you to feel sorry. It is 
enough when Harriet Wayne pities herself,” she coldly replied. 

“I have no wish to be impertinent, or appear so, and 
especially to you,” he returned. “ But this trouble which has 
fallen upon you, has also affected me. I have lost my sister 
and friend.” 

“ True,” she answered, “ I forgot that. But, after all, Mr. 
Bonnard, why should you mourn for them ? They evidently 
thought little of how their flight would affect us. I, for one, 
care little, beyond that I will be compelled to listen to what 
people have to say about it. That’s where the trouble comes 
in — to think that people calling themselves my friends will 
come to me and declare that they sympathize with me, while 
at the same time they are laughing over the situation. Oh, I 
know the world ! But I can stand all the taunts. Had I 
loved my husband it would have been different, but I never 
cared for him, and he knew it ; and needing love he sought it 
elsewhere. In your sister he found the characteristics he had 
sought in me, only to be disappointed. But why linger over 
the details, Mr. Bonnard ? They have gone their way, and 
they are sure to be happy, for they understand each other.” 

And she laughed lightly, as though she were indulging in 
the most enjoyable conversation. Yet was there a tinge of 
bitterness in her laugh. 

“ But the disgrace — the shame of the affair !” exclaimed 
Bonnard angrily. 

A faint flush arose in Mrs. Wayne’s cheeks, her eyes were 
downcast, she fingered nervously with her bracelets, and then 
in a trembling voice said : 

“ I should have done the same as Agnes in a similar case.'* 

Bonnard moved uneasily, as she darted a quick glance at 
him full of tenderest love, as she ceased speaking. 

“ Now that he is gone, what do you intend doing?” he 
asked with deep concern. 

“ I have not decided yet ; of course I shall go away from 
here at once, though,” was her cold reply, seeing that her 
tender glance and words had taken no effect upon him. 

“Do you mean to say that you intend to desert all your 
friends? ” he wonderingly questioned. 

“All my friends have deserted me ,” was her rejoinder. 

Again Bonnard moved uneasily ; it seemed as though he was 
bound to get into hot water, and he wished to heaven he 
hadn’t come. He looked at her, and saw that her lips were 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


198 

twitching, and she was running the bracelets up and down her 
arms alternately as far as they would go, in her efforts to 
appear unconcerned. 

“Indeed, Mrs. Wayne, you are unjust,” Bonnard hastened 
to say ; “why, which of your friends has deserted you ? ” 

Barely were the words out of his mouth, when he would have 
given anything to have recalled them. Her eyes met his in a 
glance of profound affection and questioning. She leaned 
toward him, panting, blushing, and trembling. 

“ Who have deserted me?” she faltered. “You — you for 
one.” 

Bonnard frowned in displeasure, but returned : 

“ I am still your friend.” 

“ Are you? Are you? ” she bitterly asked. “Well, your 
friendship has undergone a great change, Mr. Bonnard ; will 
you believe that ? And I never thought you could change ; 
you seemed to have such wondrous strength of character. 
Time was when I thought I was more than God to you, but that 
is past. But, Mr. Bonnard, don’t, if you please, ever say again 
that you are my friend ; there can be no friendship between 
two people who have played such important roles in each 
other’s lives as you and I have done. Do you think that I 
could take a second place in your thoughts and affection, and 
calmly submit to it, when I had once believed I was all the 
world to you ? No ! Henceforth, as I have said in a former con- 
versation we must meet as strangers or common acquaintances.” 

“ I am sorry that you regard a piece of folly in so serious a 
light,” Bonnard said, as he arose to take his leave. 

She did not answer, but seemed to be suffocating. She was 
deathly white, and her hand clutched at the collar of her 
dress in a frenzy of nervousness. She arose from her seat and 
walked to one of the windows. Bonnard stepped hastily for- 
ward and opened it. 

“What’s the matter? Do you feel faint?” he asked in 
alarm, passing his arm about her waist. 

“It is the heat, I guess,” she answered. The cool breeze 
fanned her face and in a few moments she declared she was all 
right. 

“ Then you intend leaving here? ” said Bonnard. 

“Yes, at once.” 

He came quite close to her and took her hand in his. It 
lay limp in his clasp, but he pressed it warmly as he said, his 
voice full of sincerity : 

“ I hope you will be happy.” 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 199 

She returned a weary smile, and retorted somewhat coldly : 

“ Keep your wishes of happiness for someone who is liable 
to realize it, Mr. Bonnard. As for myself, I shall make the 
best of my life, you may be sure.” 

“ You speak hopelessly of being happy,” he sadly returned. 

“ I speak as I think,” she laughed bitterly. “But, after 
all, one never knows what may turn up. I may yet be the 
happiest woman in the world, Mr. Bonnard.” 

“ I earnestly hope so. But what do you intend doing to 
make yourself happy? ” 

“ Now, if you’ll promise not divulge the secret, I will tell 
you. Do you promise ? ” 

There was a laughing light in her eyes as she looked at him 
and he emphatically declared he would never tell. 

“ Of course I have not really decided to do so, but I will 
need something to occupy my time. Mr. Bonnard, I have 
been thinking I should like to go on the stage.” 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Bonnard in amazement. This 
revelation was the last thing in the world he had expected to 
hear. He had thought that she meant to follow some noble 
path that would be a blessing to many, and so gain happiness 
for herself in the good she would be accomplishing. 

“ Yes,” she went on, “ you remember that you yourself told 
me I have a wonderful voice, and I know so very many people 
who will use their influence to make me a success. Will you 
come to see me when I make my appearance and congratulate 
me ? ” 

Her manner was full of gaiety, as she fluttered around him, 
dancing, skipping, making graceful little motions with her 
head and hands, and always looking at him with a smile on her 
lips and in her eyes. But though she tried to hide it from 
him, Bonnard could see she was miserable, and he knew too, 
that she was wishing he would take his leave. 

“I shall indeed do so with pleasure,” he assured her. 
“ And you have my best wishes for your success.” 

“ Thank you. And will you send me an invitation to your 
wedding?” 

“I will; and now, Mrs. Wayne, I will say good-morning. 
I am afraid I have lingered too long already.” 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Bonnard. I hope I shall have the 
pleasure of seeing you again soon,” she said. 

“ Oh, yes.” 

They shook hands cordially, apparently the best of friends 
once more, and then Bonnard left. 


200 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


u Well, well ! ” he mused, as he walked homeward. “ This 
is a pretty ending to the life of the woman I had once thought 
of making my wife. Like all who play with fire, she was 
bound some time to get scorched. When she had all to make 
her life happy — a husband’s love, health, wealth, and the re- 
spect of all who knew her, she wasn’t satisfied ; she must seek 
for other laurels in the admiration and love of men who 
laughed at her. Well, she has her just deserts, no doubt ; but 
it’s a pity she didn’t lead a different life. And she intends 
going on the stage too. Bah ! but then that sort of life will 
suit her. She must have admiration it seems ! ’ ’ 

And Bonnard’s face expressed the deep disgust he felt. 

Mrs. Wayne had stood at the window watching Bonnard as 
he left the house and until he was lost to her view ; then she 
slowly walked toward the fire, and stretching out her hands to 
the heat, murmured angrily : 

“ Oh, fool — fool that I am to love that man so well ! He 
laughs at me for my folly ! And I was idiot enough to imagine 
that he came here this morning to tell me that he still loved 
me ! Oh, I could kill myself for having been so foolish as to 
let him know I still care for him. I had thought that my 
heart was hardened toward him ! But, I will live down this 
madness ; I’ll learn to hate him ! ” 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

BONNARD MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

Louis Bonnard wrote a long letter to Mr. Richmond, stating 
all the particulars of the elopement of his sister, and declaring 
that, now Agnes was gone, he needed Estelle more than ever. 
Mr. Richmond’s reply was to the effect that his business would 
not permit him to go to Brooklyn just then. Six months 
hence, however, everything could be agreeably arranged and 
carried out. Even Estelle, in her sweet, loving way said the 
same thing in her letters, so that, although disappointed with 
their ultimatum, Louis was forced to submit. 

His heart was very bitter against Agnes. He swore he 
would never forgive her. Indeed his anger was so intense, that 
when Edward sometimes bemoaned her absence, he commanded 
him never to mention her name again. And poor Edward 
was almost heart-broken over the loss of his sweet companion, 
and missed her more and more every day. Bonnard, although 
kind to him, had other things to occupy his mind, and could 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 201 

not indulge all the odd whims that came into Edward’s head ; 
and speak to him, and soothe him as Agnes had done. 

But Louis worried over his sister’s absence more than he 
cared to admit. True, he was very angry with her, but he 
loved her dearly for all that. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Wayne had left Brooklyn for Chicago, 
where she was to appear the following season with an excellent 
operatic company. The fact that her husband had deserted 
her, got into the newspapers, and as she was described in the 
usual way as a suffering saint, and her husband a very devil, 
she became quite notorious in that role alone. And this 
helped her very much to achieve fame as an actress. 

On a lovely November day six months after Agnes’s elope- 
ment, and while Mrs. Wayne was making quite a sensation in 
Chicago, Louis Bonnard received a letter from Estelle, in 
which she said that she would arrive in Brooklyn in a few days 
with her father. 

Bonnard, almost mad with joy, hastened to tell Edward the 
news. But, though pleased to hear of Louis' coming happi- 
ness, Edward was not much interested, and soon fell into his 
old habit of wondering whether Agnes was happy, or if she 
ever thought of him. 

Two days later, as the young men were in the sitting-room 
enjoying their newspapers, a cab rattled up. In another mo- 
ment, the clang of the door-bell sounded through the house. 

Bonnard hastened to open the door — a wild thrill of expect- 
ation coursing through his veins. Sure enough as he opened 
it, his eyes rested on the sylph-like form, the sweet face with 
its big gray eyes sparkling with happiness and fun, and the 
soft, clustering curls of fair hair of Estelle Richmond. 

Louis was conscious that behind her stood the tall, thin 
figure of her father, his good-natured countenance aglow with 
happiness. But the young man had eyes for nothing but the 
daughter just then. He gave her one piercing look as if 
searching her very heart and soul, and then drew her into the 
hall ; and notwithstanding the fact that her father was looking 
at them, he kissed her fervently. 

“ Mr. Bonnard ! Really, sir, I shall accuse you of being 
intentionally neglectful of the aged. Are you aw r are, sir, that 
I have said, ‘ how — do — you — do ? ’ at least half a dozen 
times?” interposed the bluff, cheery voice of Richmond at 
this moment. 

Bonnard looked up as though awakened from a dream, then, 
releasing Estelle, he shook the old gentleman’s hand heartily, 


202 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

and bade him welcome. They then repaired to the sitting- 
room, where Edward greeted his uncle and cousin warmly. But 
though they were very kind, nothing seemed to revive in him 
the once cheerful, happy spirit which they had formerly known. 

The night, though one of intense pleasure to Louis and 
Estelle wis passed very quietly. Both Estelle and her father 
declared their return to Brooklyn was extremely sad without 
having Agnes to welcome them. 

“ And how is she getting on ? ” asked Estelle. 

Bonnard frowned darkly and said he didn’t know, and didn’t 
care. 

“Oh, how can you be so hard-hearted?” reproachfully 
cried the little woman, with tears in her eyes. “ I declare, 
you’re a monster — you don’t love anybody ! ” 

They were seated in a secluded part of the room away from 
Edward and Mr. Richmond, so that their conversation was not 
overheard. 

“ Now, darling,” interposed Bonnard tenderly, “you know 
at least that I love you.” 

“ No, you don’t ! ” pouted Estelle, “ such an unfeeling man 
cannot love anyone.” 

“ What utter nonsense ! Why I’d give my life for you ! ” 
Louis earnestly declared. 

“ But, if you don’t love Agnes, you don’t love me — there ! ” 

“I haven’t said I didn’t love her. The fact is, I am afraid 
I love her too well after the disgrace she has brought upon our 
name. But I’ll never forgive her — never ! Now don’t reason 
with me further, dearest, because I am inexorable on that 
point.” 

And he looked so very stern at that moment, that Estelle 
said nothing further on the subject. But, deep down in her 
heart she resolved that Louis should yet be reconciled to his 
sister. In the meantime she would find out where Wayne and 
Agnes had gone — through the doctor’s lawyer, and she would 
write to them, and learn how they were, and tell them all that 
was going on in Brooklyn, for she argued : 

“Louis is headstrong, and will not yield very readily 
though he may be longing from the bottom of his heart to 
hear from them. As for Wayne and Agnes, they no doubt 
fear that if they write, it will only rouse Louis’ anger the 
more. But I will be their angel of guidance in this at least.” 

When Bonnard had mastered his emotion occasioned by 
their conversation about Agnes, he turned to Estelle and gaily 
inquired : 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 




il When is our wedding to come off, Estelle? ” 

“Oh, not for some time yet,” she auswered with a merry 
laugh and a toss of her curly head. 

“ But, seriously, darling, when is it to be ? ” Bonnard im- 
patiently persisted. 

“ Well, when will you want me? ” she asked demurely. 

“Now — this very minute, you witch,” he laughed. “'But 
all joking aside, Essie — when is it to be ? Can you manage to 
have your trousseau ready in a month ? ” 

“ I think I can. And how would New Year's night do for 
the wedding? ” she asked merrily. 

“ Capital ! It will be very appropriate too. We will start 
our life together with the beginning of a new year, then go on 
a wedding-tour, and while we are gone the home can be fixed 
up, and then we will settle down to a long and happy exist- 
ence.” 

Bonnard smiled down into the sweet face with loving tender- 
ness when he had ceased speaking. 

“ It all seems to be so bright, from the way you picture it. 
But will it be just that way? ” she questioned, anxiously. 

“ I am sure of it ; ” he emphatically returned. “ You see, 
darling, our marriage will not be like other people’s. We love 
each other.” 

“Ah, yes,” she sweetly rejoined. I had forgotten that.” 

The smile came back to her lips again, and she looked 
brightly into his face. 

“Shall I tell them?” whispered Bonnard, glancing at Mr. 
Richmond and Edward. 

She blushed, smiled, pouted a little in disapproval and fi- 
nally consented. 

When their mutual agreement was broached to the others, 
there was great rejoicing. Mr. Richmond declared that his 
longing to have a son was at last to be realized, and he was 
happy to claim such a one as Mr. Bonnard beyond all others. 
Edward also congratulated the lovers, and said it gave him 
much pleasure to do so. 

And so, into the desolation of Bonnard’s heart and home 
there was to shine again the cheerful. and tender light of a 
woman’s love and presence. But was she, the sister who for 
over eighteen years had shared his every grief and joy, to be 
an outcast from his heart now that Estelle was to be his wife ? 
Would he resolutely turn his thoughts from her, and never 
send the kind, forgiving words that would bring her back ? 
Alas ! it seemed so — for long years afterward, although Estelle 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT . 


i04 

had done all within the power of her loving heart to recon- 
cile them, he would fly into a rage at the mere mention of her 
name, and swear he would never forgive her as long as he 
lived. 

* * * * * * 

A week before the wedding took place, Louis Bonnard was 
surprised one morning to receive a letter addressed to him in 
Mrs. Wayne’s handwriting. Tearing open the envelope he 
read : 

“ Dear Mr. Bonnard : — I will be in New York in a few days to play at 
the — Theatre. If I send you tickets will you come and see me ? Bring 
Miss Richmond with you. I have a desire to know what you think of my 
abilities, and therefore make this request. Besides you recollect you 
promised to come. 

“Yours Sincerely, 

“ Harriet Wayne.” 

At the end of the note were the words : “ Please send your 
answer to the General Post Office, New York, so that I can get 
it when I arrive.” 

Bonnard complied with Mrs. Wayne’s request, though he 
wondered a good deal why she should have asked him to do 
such a thing. 

It never occurred to his mind that she had done so for the 
purpose of seeing him — yet that was her sole sobject. Mrs. 
Wayne was perfectly well aware that she could not see Bonnard 
otherwise — at least without giving him cause to think she was 
still deeply in love with him. And she wanted to see him — 
longed to feast her eyes again on his dear face. For although 
she desired to hate him, her passion was still strong and craved 
to indulge its longing. 

The tickets came in due course, and Bonnard and Estelle 
made use of them, though Estelle did not wish to attend the 
performance. 

That night the theatre was crowded and the curtain went 
up amid no little excitement. The lights among the audience 
were lowered, and the stage was brilliant in its setting — the 
beauty of the men and women, the lights, and the music as it 
swelled through the building in a soft, low monotone was en- 
trancing. 

But amongst all the divinely fair women was one superior to 
the rest in appearance and gracefulness. She likewise com- 
manded the most attention, yet she was not the star. But the 
audience, or the men in it at least, found it a pleasanter task to 
gaze upon the elegant form and beautiful features of this one 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 205 

woman than listen to the most exquisite music ever sang by a 
woman less attractive. 

Besides, her voice although not great was extremely sweet. 

Louis and Estelle both watched this woman attentively, and 
her eyes met theirs at times in a glance of recognition, as they 
leaned forward in the box nearest the stage. 

When the performance was almost over, an usher came with 
a message to Bonnard that “ Mrs. Wayne would like to see 
them in the dressing-room, when the opera was over.” 

Accordingly they went, and found her surrounded by half a 
dozen admirers. Two men stood near the door of the room 
speaking when they entered. Said one to the other : 

“ She is beautiful enough to drive a man out of his senses, 
but she’s the most heartless woman I ever met.” 

“Heartless?” returned the other in surprise. “ Ah, but 
I can recollect the time when that same woman would almost 
die for me. ’ 

The voice was full of mockery and conceit. 

“ Both Estelle and Louis, recognizing it, turned and looked 
at the speaker, and saw — their old acquaintance, Conrad Moore. 

Their eyes met and they nodded to each other. 

“ How are you, Mr. Moore? You are quite a stranger since 
your marriage,” Louis coldly remarked. 

“ Very well, I thank yon. And how are you, and Miss 
Richmond ? Both well ? Ah, that is good ! What wonder- 
ful changes have been going on in the lives of our old friends 
of late. Poor Edward ! It is a thousand pities he should have 
become such a simpleton. But he always was a little weak 
here.” 

And this very sympathetic young man, with a laugh of con- 
tempt, tapped his forehead significantly. 

“ People who think themselves smart, are often greater sim- 
pletons than those who are unfortunate enough to be considered 
so,” was Bonnard’s pointed rejoinder. 

“Ah, so? ’’was the smiling retort. “Really, Mr. Bon- 
nard, you are an amusing chap. Your jokes are so stunning ! ” 

“Ah, but the fault of my jokes lie in the fact that they are 
not always appreciated in the sense I wish to convey them,” 
replied Bonnard, with flashing eyes. 

“ Indeed ? That’s too bad ! ” 

Bonnard was aching to punch him, for his smooth-tonged 
conversation was exasperating. 

“ How is your wife? ” he managed to say with apparent 
pleasant interest. 


20 6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 


“ Not feeling very well of late, and the doctors say she will 
not last long,” was the indifferent reply. 

“Sad for you,” said Bonnard, with an affected glance of 
pity. 

“Yes; but the poor thing declares she would like to die, 
and be out of her misery.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” and bowing politely to him, Bonnard 
advanced with Estelle toward Mrs. Wayne, who had been 
watching them ever since their entrance. 

Not long afterward, Bonnard learned that Moore’s wife had 
died; but instead of being a wealthy widower, he was left 
penniless, his wife having made a will in favor of her sister — 
as Moore’s constant neglect and cruelty to her plainly indi- 
cated that he had married her for her wealth alone. He was 
compelled to adapt the stage as a profession once more to earn 
his livelihood, and from all accounts is doing so still. 

Mrs. Wayne greeted Louis and Estelle effusively, yet there 
was a constraint in her manner. She wanted to act coldly to- 
ward Bonnard yet she yearned to tell him how dear he was to 
her. Estelle watched them with jealous rage. She was not 
quite so blind as Bonnard. He thought that when Mrs. 
Wayne’s hand sought his or she laid hers on his arm, that it 
was only done to show her friendliness, and naturally, being 
anxious to show her that he appreciated that fact, he gave her 
hand many tender little pressures. 

But, she was not foolish enough to misinterpret his atten- 
tions now. She knew, just as surely as she knew that he would 
forget their conversation ten minutes after he had left her, that 
his heart was so cold toward her as the heart of any man lov- 
ing another woman. Yet the happiness she realized in seeing 
and speaking to him, was of great solace to her, and her 
yearning for his love was, if possible, more intense than it 
ever had been. 

When they parted that night, after a pleasant chat about 
her stage life, Mrs. Wayne was very sad. 

“You must not forget to come to our wedding,” said Bon- 
nard, smilingly shaking hands with her. 

“ It is four days hence, is it not ? ” 

The answer was “Yes,” given simultaneously by Louis and 
Estelle. Harriet said she thought she would come, but wished 
them happiness in any event. 

She gazed lingeringly at Bonnard ; her eyes were full of sad 
yearning, and her lips quivered. She was glad when they had 
gone, and refusing several invitations to supper, rode home 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


20 7 


alone to her hotel — thoughtful, heart-broken, with her brain on 
fire contemplating a means that was to be the end of all her 
misery. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MRS. WAYNE COMMITS SUICIDE. 

Mrs. Wayne’s room was in darkness when she entered it, 
except for the moonlight streaming in through the window. 
She sank wearily upon an ottoman in front of the fire, and 
fell to thinking. 

A feeling of loneliness and desolation was upon her such as 
she had never felt before. The world seemed to possess noth- 
ing further of happiness, and she yearned for peace and rest 
with that intenseness that only blighted hopes can arouse in 
our hearts. She had tried to forget Bonnard in the gay career 
of an actress, but this kind of life, although delightful and 
full of satisfying ambition, had not soothed her heartaches. 
And what did it all amount to in the end ? For one moment 
to lay her head on Bonnard’s breast, she would gladly have 
sacrificed herself to months of misery. Alas ! such wild 
longings were never to be realized. But she would end her 
misery ! Better so, than live and suffer as she had done. 

Yet the thought of death was so repugnant, that her heart 
shrank with dread and loathing as she contemplated it. Then 
came the thought — could she bear to live knowing that an- 
other woman possessed Louis’ affections ? Oh, no, no, no ! 
Better death than go mad — which must surely be the result of 
such mental agony. 

Filled with an unconquerable resolve to end her life, she lit 
the gas, and seated herself to w r rite a farewell letter to Bon- 
nard. Tears gathered in her eyes, and fell upon her hands as 
they lay clasped before her on the table over the writing-paper. 
It seemed so terrible to be seated there full of life and strength 
and beauty, then to contemplate that in a little while she 
would be dead — utterly unloved and unmourned ! She had 
never thought her love for Bonnard would have brought her to 
this. A few months ago she had been so happy in the thought 
that she would be his. While now — but no, she must not 
think any longer of what was, but put an end to all. 

She dipped her pen resolutely into the ink and wrote : 

“ Dear Louis : — I address you once more, and for the last time, by 
the loved name I have ever cherished so fondly. You have been to my 
soul and heart, what the air is to life— a necessity j and during all the 


20 8 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


long years of our first parting, I never forgot you even for an hour. Oh, 
dearest, if you ever harbored contempt for me, be merciful now ! Remem- 
ber how I have loved you — not wisely, as most women love, but too well ! 
I have been vain, frivolous, and heartless t<p others, but my heart has 
always been true to you. I lived in the sweet hope of one day being 
with you for all time ; and I have tried so much to be worthy of you 9 
although you may think otherwise. 

“Life no longer holds any hope for me ; you were all I craved. But 
you sought another love. Do you remember years ago, having given me 
a piece of evergreen, and full of pride and happiness you had repeated a 
tender little poem in German, which when translated was : 

“ ‘ Our love shall not be 
Like the roses and liles ; 

They fade ! 

But like the evergreen. 

Shall live for all time.’ 

“ Ah, Louis, how full of power and strength were the words ; but, God! 
how weakly they were carried out ! Dearest, do not think I am reproach- 
ing you. I am only regretting what has ended so bitterly. Harriet never 
loved you so well as now, and in her love she hopes you will be always 
happy. She hopes that the wife you have chosen will be to you, all 
that she feels she could have been — your friend, comforter, and companion. 

“ When you gaze upon my dead face, Louis, will you think kindly of 
me, and touch my poor cold hands tenderly ? Oh, God ! only to feel your 
arms about me once more, my beloved ! 

“ Tell Estelle, I hope she will forgive me. I never meant to do the 
poor child any wilful harm, for God knows I loved you dearly. And 
Agnes and Robert ! — tell them I remembered them. 

“ And now, farewell ! I go to that unknown beyond from whose bourne 
there is no return. Farewell — farewell ! ” 

She dropped the pen when she had ceased writing, and 
buried her face in her hands — her whole form convulsed with 
sobs. And so she remained for a long time. When she arose, 
she went to the corner of the room where her trunks stood, 
and opening one, took from the very bottom of it, a creamy 
cashmere dress, trimmed with rich lace. It was the same that 
she had worn when Bonnard had told her that his love was all 
pretention. 

“ I never thought to wear it again,” she murmured as she 
pressed out one or two creases. “ But I’ll wear it now ; per- 
haps if he remembers the circumstances connected with it, his 
heart would grow tender and loving toward me, and he will 
kiss the poor lips that will never speak and tell him again that 
I loved him better than my own life. Oh, dearest, is it thus 
my love for you must end ? In the grave ! ” 

She clasped her hands in agony, and her eyes were full of 
anguish and despair At length, however, she proceeded to 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


209 


attire herself. She was very careful with her toilet, arranging 
her hair in the most becoming fashion. She took even greater 
care in dressing than if she were going to a ball, for it gave her 
pleasure to think that even in death she would command ad- 
miration by right of her beauty. 

When she had addressed the letter to Bonnard, she took a 
vial labelled “ laudanum” from the table where she had laid 
it. Then she knelt before a crimson plush couch, and her 
white lips moved in prayer. After awhile she laydown on the 
couch in a graceful position, and uncorking the vial, raised it 
to her lips. Her hand quivered and the laudanum had barely 
touched her lips, when she sprang to her feet, spilling half of 
the liquid on her gown ; her eyes were full of wild horror and 
her face was ghastly. 

“I cannot do it ! ” she moaned; “ I cannot do it in spite 
of all my misery ! Death is so horrible — even though life is 
maddening ! And, I’m so beautiful ! ” 

She stood before a long mirror and surveyed herself. 

“ How foolish for the sake of one man to commit suicide 
when there are hundreds who admire me. But ah, I’m so 
miserable ! I love him so ! I cannot live without him ! ” 
And so, reasoning between life and death, she wandered 
about the room in an aimless way, and paused at length at the 
window. How calm the night ! The stars were twinkling 
brightly in their deep bed of blue, and the moon made every- 
thing as light as day. How beautiful the world was after all, 
and what folly to think of leaving it of one’s own accord. But 
the cry came from her lips again : 

“ I’m so miserable ! I cannot live without him ! ” 

And she turned away from the calm beauty of the night with 
a heavy heart. She picked up the vial containing the lauda- 
num again, and turned it over and’ over, and shook the liquid, 
all the while being in deep meditation. 

Gradually her lips compressed. She went to the mirror and 
inspected herself to see if her hair had become disarranged. 
Satisfying herself that all was right, she turned away and 
went to the couch once more and lay down. Without 
the least hesitation now, she raised the vial to her lips, and 
resisting the impulse to cast it aside, with grim determination 
swallowed the contents. 

- The tragedy of her life was done. The sunlight of a new 
day would never dawn on her again. Like the sadness of her 

14 


210 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


life — for in spite of all her apparent gaiety it had been such 
— everything would be grim and black, for this was death ! 

She had sought in death what the man she worshipped could 
not give, and which the devotion of other men, however sin- 
cere, could not gratify. Even in those days when she had 
been sure of Bonnard’s love, there was ever a craving in her 
jealous nature that demanded superiority over others, in every 
respect. But it was at an end now ! Her placid brow would 
never more be wrinkled, or her heart know the dull throbs of - 
misery. She had sought the great Liberator, and he had gladly 
received her. 

The following morning, a policeman called on Bonnard and 
told him the news and placed her letter in his hand. He was 
almost stunned. He could not comprehend why she should 
do such an act — even under the circumstances, and he suffered 
keenly to think that he was the cause of it. 

He hastened to the hotel at once, and was shown to her 
room. No one had disturbed anything in the apartment since 
the tragedy. She lay as if she were asleep — as beautiful almost 
as when living. 

Bonnard knelt beside her lifeless form with mingled feelings 
of pity and regret, and took the cold, still hand in his own, 
and gazed at the fair, white face. He smoothed the hair from 
her brow in a lingering, caressing way, 2^d softly patted 
her cheek. But there was no tender yielding of the flesh to 
to his caresses. His head sank forward upon the pulseless 
heart, and he wept bitter tears of reproach and agony. He 
remembered how he had at one time loved this woman — had 
regarded her as the soul of all that was lovely, and pure, and 
good. 

“Oh, Harriet, my dear — my first love ! ” he passionately 
murmured, tenderly fondling the cold face and hands, and 
putting his arms around her as though he would draw her to his 
breast, and kissing the silent lips as lovingly as even she could 
have wished. 

But it was of no avail. The tender words and caresses 
that would have thrilled her soul with rapture in life, left no 
impression now. She was dead, dead ! The word seemed to 
dance before his eyes, and kept continually thumping in his 
heart and brain. 

He was lenient to all her faults now. Her gay life, and 
the heart-aches of those on whom she had exerted the power 
of her beauty and fascinating manners, were as utterly for- 
gotten as though they had never existed. The bitterness of 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


211 


his own suffering when she had rejected him for Dr. Wayne, 
was forgotten too ; the insinuating reflections many people had 
cast upon her questionable reputation, were all overlooked ; 
whereas, a short time ago he had been the first to pass judg- 
ment upon her actions. He argued now : 

“ A woman capable of such love as she bore me, must 
have noble principles, however foolish she may have acted. 
Oh, Harriet, Harriet, have I driven you to your death ? ” 

And again overcome, he fell to lamenting over his folly, 
and wishing all sorts of miserable and impossible things. 

His thoughts were far away from Estelle now ; it was as 
though his love for Mrs. Wayne had been revived and intensi- 
fied under the influence of this sad tragedy. 

Her farewell letter, the silent lips closed forever, and her 
beauty and grace even in death, appealed more to his feelings 
than all her imploring words had ever done. Death had brought 
about what in life she could not have accomplished. But ah, 
she needed no longer the tender love and caresses, for which 
she had so often yearned. 

And Bonnard was conscious of this fact too. 

A hand laid on his arm, caused him to look up, and he 
saw again the policeman who had informed him of her death. 

“I beg pardon, sir — ” said the officer respectfully, then 
pointed in the direction of the door. Louis followed the 
man’s gesture, and saw three or four other men standing in 
the hall. He quietly submitted to the necessity of leaving 
the room ; understanding that they wished to make an inves- 
tigation regarding Mrs. Wayne’s death. He clasped her hand 
once more, and then sadly left her. At the door he was stopped, 
and questioned as to who he was, what relation he was to the 
dead woman, and similar questions. When he had answered 
them to the satisfaction of those who asked, he was permitted 
to go. 

In a dazed way he walked to the hotel where Estelle and her 
father stopped, and told them all. They were of course sur- 
prised to hear the news, but expressed no very deep concern. 
In truth, Estelle experienced a deep relief, for, although 
pretty and attractive herself, she was woman enough to be 
jealous of another superior in good looks to herself, especially 
when Bonnard paid so much attention to her rival. 

Mrs. Wayne’s death was in fact regretted by but few. She 
had no friends amongst women, and the majority of the men 
did not pity her much after expressing so decidedly her pref- 
erence for Bonnard ? and leaving them in the cold, 


212 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


Bonnard was the chief mourner, and he did everything 
within his power to have the funeral service performed as 
nearly as possible what he believed she would have desired. 
But he hated the notoriety that was forced upon him under the 
circumstances. He was also somewhat annoyed with Estelle, 
who was cold and distant in her manner toward him, because 
he manifested too deep an interest in the proceedings. 

The day of the funeral came at last however, without any 
serious misunderstanding between them. Bonnard, Mr. Rich- 
mond, and Estelle were the first to arrive at the fashionable 
undertaking establishment where Mrs. Wayne’s body had been 
taken to await burial. 

As they stood beside the coffin, and gazed down at the 
beautiful face, Estelle could not .restrain the tears of pity that 
would come in spite of all her efforts to restrain them. She 
realized how petty were all her jealousies now, for who could 
war with dumb, unconscious clay ? ” 

She kissed the poor lips sadly, and regretted that they had 
not been bettter friends — and thus all enmity was at an end 
between them. 

Bonnard also took a sad leave-taking of her with his heart 
full of agony, and Mr. Richmond was grave and silent. 

After the church service had been conducted, they proceeded 
on the long, weary ride to the cemetery. Slowly the carriages 
drew to a stop, and the cemetery-bell tolled a welcome to 
another who had come to sleep the last, long sleep. Involun- 
tarily a shiver ran through those who regretted her death most. 
Then the carriages rolled onward rapidly on the smooth roads 
until they arrived at the grave. In a few minutes more the 
coffin had been lowered into the ground. Bonnard, having 
casually observed evergreen growing on a mound near by, took 
a piece and dropped it into the grave — a faint smile, that was 
full of sadness, crossing his face as he did so. 

Then followed a sermon, spoken by a grave, white-haired 
minister, and the solemn words falling upon Bonnard’s ear 
made him shudder. 

“ For from dust were ye made, and unto dust shall ye 
return.” 

God ! was it possible that that beautiful form was to crumble 
to dust in the grave ? Through the long years to come, was 
her beauty and fascinating manner to be cherished only in 
memory ? 

These thoughts almost drove him mad. It seemed impos- 
sible that what had been so greatly admired, must thus perish. 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


*13 


So absorbed had he been in his thoughts, that he had failed 
to notice that the minister had ceased speaking. The dull, 
hollow echo of the earth falling upon the coffin- lid, brought 
back his thoughts with a shock of horror to the present. With 
every shovelful of earth into the grave, his heart seemed to say : 
“ Gone — gone ! ” 

He held his hat in front of his eyes in the pretence of 
shielding them from the sunlight, but in reality it was to hide 
his tears. 

She had loved him well, alas, too well ! and she was at least 
worthy of some regret on his part. Gone ? Ay, the last tie 
between them was severed ! But as he drove home, the 
thought did come to him that after all it was for the best. She 
was at peace now, and Dr. Wayne was free to make Agnes his 
wife. This thought was somewhat consoling, for, although he 
had no intention whatever of forgiving the doctor and his 
sister, still, he was naturally desirous of seeing Agnes, Wayne’s 
wife. 

Estelle had watched him with pensive eyes during their 
journey home, and noticing the expression, he caught the 
little figure to his heart in a loving embrace and whispered : 

“ My love is all yours, darling. Don’t worry ! ” 

The embrace and the assuring words worked like a charm. 
For the rest of the day she was her old self — loving, gentle, 
and amiable, and the gloom gradually dispersed from Bon- 
nard’s heart and face. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE WEDDING OF LOUIS AND ESTELLE. 

On account of poor Harriet Wayne’s death, Louis Bonnard 
had postponed his marriage to Estelle one week — a tribute in 
a measure to that unfortunate but beautiful woman’s untimely 
end. 

The wedding day at last came round, and bright and clear 
it was. If such a day could be any indication of a happy 
future, then their lives surely had every promise of it. 

In her trailing robes of white satin and point lace, and 
bouquet of white rosebuds, the bride looked more charming 
than ever before. Her pretty face was rosy with blushes, and 
her bright eyes were full of happiness. 

Bonnard also looked very handsome as he took his place 
beside her at the altar. When the words which made them 
man and wife had been spoken, and they had been con- 


214 THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 

gratulated by their friends, Bonnard made haste to leave the 
church. 

He did not forget that only a week before, Mrs. Wayne had 
committed suicide for love of him ; and now, standing in the 
very church to be married, where only a short time ago the 
funeral service had been read over her, revived all the events 
of that sad day with sorrowful intensity. It seemed as though 
a shadow were hanging over them. He could not cast aside 
the memory of that terrible tragedy, even on this, the hap- 
piest day of his life. The thought of the beautiful form lying 
in the cemetery, cold and silent forever, with only the gentle 
breeze or blasting storm, the song-birds, the sky, and trees for 
company, filled his heart with a pang of profound reproach. 
It seemed so heartless to be celebrating his marriage so soon 
after her death — her pitiful, heart-broken death. 

Perceiving his sad, preoccupied air, Estelle did her best to 
cheer him. She knew what he was thinking of, and so care- 
fully avoided referring to anything that might intensify his 
anguish. But in her sweet, loving way, that was so child-like 
yet withal so womanly, she spoke to him. 

“ I mean to be so kind to you, dearest, she said in her sweet 
voice, nestling close to him in the carriage as they were being 
driven home — “ I shall never worry you, and I mean to attend 
to all your wants myself, as Agnes used to do.” 

A smile crept into Louis’ face as he listened ; and he assured 
her in very lovable terms that he on his part would not fail to 
appreciate her kindness. 

And so they passed the time until they arrived home. 

Estelle was as happy as a lark, her only regret being that 
Agnes was not there to witness the wedding and share in their 
joyousness. But her regret was only momentary and did not 
dim the radiance of her joyous spirit. She was everywhere ; 
now with her arms around her father’s neck, asking him quite 
gravely if he will miss his little girl very much, and laughing 
hysterically through a mist of tears when he assures her that 
he will. Then, there is Edward, whom she comes upon 
unawares, and putting her hands over his eyes, waits laugh- 
ingly for him to tell her who it is. He feels her hands and 
hesitates, and finally whispers : “ Agnes,” and a pang of pain 

shoots through Estelle’s heart as she considers what his disap- 
pointment will be when he discovers it is only her. But she 
dares not continue his suspense, so she falls upon her knees 
beside him and caresses his poor, pale face, and conjures him 
not to worry, for Agnes will come again. And he sobs and 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


215 


declares be will have no one to care for him when she too is 
gone — although only for a temporary period. But he yields 
nobly to the sacrifice of parting with her when the time comes, 
and does not express the selfish wish that she will give up the 
pleasure of her wedding tour and stay with him in the old 
home. 

Then there were the innumerable friends to say something 
kind to, and listen as each one separately congratulated her 
over and over again, and said perhaps, something relative to 
married life — such as instructing her that she must not let Mr. 
Bonnard. dictate too much to her simply because he is her hus- 
band now. And Estelle listens to all the instructions in that 
vein, with a horrified little stare, and wishes people wouldn’t 
say such cruel things. But she nevertheless decides that she 
will do everything to make her life as peaceful and joyous as 
possible, as well as Louis’ too. 

She is too excited to eat, but blushes and laughs to a degree 
that is really startling, as the guests drink a toast to the bride 
and groom, and pass some witty remarks thereon. She is 
really very happy. Her future seems bright with perfect con- 
tentment, and what more can mortal desire ? 

After a while she steals away to take a last glance at the fa- 
miliar rooms in the old house that is to be her home, and 
thinks of all the happy associations connected with it. In the 
trim kitchen all glitter .with cooking utensils polished to the 
last degree of brilliancy, she had first come upon Agnes in her 
own home, and had learned to love her -as a, sister and dear 
friend. In the dining-room, Louis had caught her playing 
with the little white kitten, that had since grown into a mon- 
strous sized cat. And the cheerful, little parlor ! How often 
when she had come to see Agnes had they sat around the fire, 
and Louis had been so attentive to her, as to cause Agnes to 
leave the room in the pretence of having something to do, so 
that they might be alone. Ah, those were happy days ! dear, 
foolishly happy days ! and yet how sweetly remembered ! 

She looked at Agnes’s room last. It ^vas still in the same 
condition that Bonnard had left it on the day when he had 
learned of her elopement. The mirror in its white frame 
was shattered in a- thousand pieces, and broken bric-a-brac 
lay strewn about the floor. 

Estelle surveyed the damage sadly. 

“ But it shall all be as she used to have it — I will see to 
that,” she reflected with compressed lips. “ And by and by 
she shall return to us, and occupy the old room ; for, my deal 


21 6 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


husband, I shall not give you an hour’s peace until you consent 
to forgive her and the doctor, and make them both welcome.” 

And she turned away laughing at her plans — for she had 
not the slightest doubt, but that her influence over Louis was 
so great, she could make him do whatever she wished. 

As Estelle came down from Agnes’s room, Bonnard was 
waiting for her at the foot of the staircase, wondering what 
had delayed her. 

He quickly informed her that the hour had at length arrived 
for them to leave, so that she would have ample time to change 
her wedding dress for a traveling costume at her hotel, ere 
they started on their journey. 

Accordingly she bade good-by to all her friends, lingering 
lovingly beside her father and Edward (who were to remain in 
each other’s company until their return), and finally parting 
with them amid a burst of tears. 

Bonnard gave some last instructions to Mr. Richmond, then 
bade him and Edward an affectionate adieu ; and, with a last 
good-by to all the others, he led Estelle from the house amid 
a shower of rice and old shoes, and hearty good wishes, and 
waving of handkerchiefs. 

Then they were driven away in a carriage, until a turn in 
the street lost them to the view of their well wishers. 

And so the chief excitement of the event was over, and the 
bride and groom were at last free to speak in unmolested si- 
lence of the happy union that had so sweetly blessed them. 

“I am so feappy ! ” said .each to the other. And as Bon- 
nard drew his wife to his breast, and looked down into the 
sweet face, the memory of the beautiful woman who had loved 
him so madly returned to his mind, and he thought of her 
farewell words regarding her affection for him : 

“ In her love for you Harriet hopes that you will always be 
happy. She hopes that the wife you have chosen will be to 
you all that she feels she could have been — your friend, com- 
forter, and companion.” 

CHAPTER XXX. 

‘ ‘ THERE IS LIGHT AT THE EVENTIDE.” 

Seven years have passed since the marriage of Louis and 
Estelle, and how many changes have taken place in that time ! 

There was one incident at least, which we take pleasure in 
recording — The reconciliation of Louis, Agnes, and Dr. 
Wayne, and this is how it was brought about : 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT, 


21J 


Edward Hawley had gradually fallen into a decline, from 
which the doctors said he would never recover. His con- 
tinual longing was to see Agnes once more ; and, as Bonnard 
was but human, he could not for the sake of his stern resolve 
deny poor Edward’s dying wish. Besides, though he had 
never admitted it, his own heart yearned tenderly toward his 
sister and former friend. And so he gave Estelle, who cor- 
responded with Agnes regularly, permission to bid them come 
back to the old home. The invitation was accepted, and the 
day of their arrival set for the coming Christmas. 

And now it is here — an ideal Christmas of ice and snow 
which covers the ground, envelopes the branches of the trees, 
and clothes everything that it can in its spotless purity. The 
window-panes are exquisitely decorated too — with ferns and 
figures of every kind brought there by the frost, and the merry 
jingle of the sleigh-bells lend their joyous sounds to the beauty 
of the scene. 

In the old Willow Street house, the family had assembled in 
the parlor, waiting and listening for the arrival of the expected 
ones. 

Before the bright, cheerful fire sat Mr. Richmond with his 
laughing little grandson on his knee, whose chief delight was 
to pull the old gentleman’s moustache,, until tears of pain 
came into his eyes, which compelled grandpa at last to make 
the hands of the young mischief-maker prisoner. Then there 
is a bawl of remonstrance on the part of the young tyrant, 
and as Mr. Richmond is afraid he will bawl still more, and 
doesn’t wish to have the little rebel spanked, he submits like a 
martyr to the torture of nearly having his lips pulled out of 
shape, and groans inwardly until his grandson’s playfulness is 
appeased. 

Edward is sitting in an easy chair near by, propped up with 
pillows, appearing very happy and contented, now that he 
knows he will soon see Agnes again. But he is weak and 
emaciated nevertheless. He glances down at a pretty little 
woman on an ottoman beside him, reading aloud from a vol- 
ume of poetry. It is Estelle, though grown somewhat stouter 
and more womanly to be sure, but still the same Estelle in dis- 
position — merry, amiable, and tender as ever. 

Bonnard is standing at one of the windows, gazing out at 
the wintry scene ; his face is very stern and he is doubtless 
thinking of how he will welcome his sister and brother-in-law — 
for although he had sent the invitation for them to come home, 
his heart refused to receive them with the degree of warmth 


2 18 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


necessary. He cannot forget that Agnes had brought disgrace 
on his name, which had been saved only by the merest chance. 
And yet politeness and love demanded that he should welcome 
them warmly and gladly. But, as he glanced round, and his 
eyes fell upon Edward’s face, and he noticed every sad change 
that had taken place in the poor fellow since the night Agnes 
had broken her promise to him, his heart grew stern and unre- 
lenting. He again gazed out into the street in uncertain and 
gloomy thought ; but in a few minutes turned round and 
announced with some trepidation — for a carriage was about to 
stop at the door : 

“ Here they are ! ” 

The effect of his words was quite startling. Grandfather 
Richmond was on his feet in an instant, and with his little 
tormentor raised on his shoulder, made for the hall, as also did 
Estelle. But Bonnard lingered behind with Edward, who was 
so excited that he made an attempt to get up, only to fall back 
helplessly in his chair. 

Bonnard could not bring himself to the point of going out 
to meet them, so he tried to calm Edward’s excited nerves ; 
but he was conscious nevertheless of all that was occurring 
outside. He saw Dr. Wayne, looking happier than he had 
ever seen him before and scarcely a day older in appearance, 
alight from the carriage, then turn to assist Agnes. Bonnard 
watched breathlessly now. He saw a small hand encased in a 
dark glove extended for the doctor to grasp, and in another 
moment a lady had stepped to the pavement, and hurried 
toward the house, her face beaming with happiness. It was 
Agnes — his dear, little sister ! With an exclamation of joy 
Louis darted from the room, all his love rekindled at the sight 
of her. 

She was clasped in Estelle’s arms when he came amongst 
them, but seeing him, she released herself, and with a glad cry 
threw herself upon his breast, exclaiming again and again, as 
she looked at him through a mist of tears, all the while caress- 
ing his face and hands : 

“ Dear Louis ! — dear brother ! oh, I’m so, so glad to see 
you ! ” 

What extravagant caresses and endearing epithets they in- 
dulged in! and how they both laughed heartily afterwards 
when they happened to recall it. 

It was only when when Dr. Wayne approached that Bonnard 
had finally satisfied his ardor, for, clasping the doctor’s hand 
was a slender, frail little creature with large, mournful dark 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


219 

eyes — the very picture of Agnes — and for the first time Bon- 
nard realized he was an uncle. He took the little girl in his 
arms, and while he tenderly caressed the pretty face, his hand 
sought the doctor’s, and the two men were once more sworn 
friends, by the assuring, firm clasp of their hands. 

In the midst of their happiness, poor Edward had been for- 
gotten. Agnes was the first to ask for him. Being told that 
he was in the parlor, she stole softly toward the room and 
peeped in. He was eagerly watching the door, and catching 
sight of her for one fleeting moment ere she drew back to over- 
come the shock his changed appearance had wrought upon her, 
he stretched forth his arms yearningly, and called her name : 

“ Agnes ! — Agnes ! Come to me ! ” 

How sepulchrally weak the voice ! The very Sound made 
Agnes shiver and draw back in dread. But again it rang out 
in pleading accents : 

“Oh, Agnes, Agnes ! do not keep me waiting ! ” 

She entered the room then, and smiling sweetly went to his 
chair. She sank beside him, and clasped the thin, cold hands 
in her own warm palms, and" softly patted and kissed the poor 
face. How he brightened under the influence of her caresses, 
and with what joy he gazed at her. 

Still no recollection of what she had been to him in the 
long, long ago, came to his mind. She was only the dear, 
loving sister returning to brighten his life. 

“ And I mean to nurse you back to health, my poor Ed- 
ward, and we will have some of our old happy days again,” 
she sweetly said, trying to be cheerful. 

He listened in silence, but smiled wearily and sadly. His 
head drooped forward until it lay on her breast, and he said 
he knew he would always be happy now that she had returned 
to him. 

All that day he was never contented unless she was sitting 
beside him — with his hand clasped in hers. He did not mani- 
fest much interest in the presence of either Dr. Wayne or little 
Agnes; his every thought was absorbed in “sister Agnes” 
alone. 

But Dr. Wayne was not the least bit jealous or annoyed to 
see his wife sitting beside Edward so lovingly. On the con- 
trary he was pleased she should do so, and pitied Edward 
deeply as he observed the poor fellow’s miserable state of health. 

“ By the way, Robert,” said Louis, later in the day, “ how 
is it that you kept the secret of this little fairy’s birth from us? ” 

He fondled the little girl tenderly as she sat on his knee, 


226 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


and smiled as the dark eyes solemnly stared up at him — in a 
way that left but little doubt that she had crept into his heart. 

Not for worlds would Estelle say that she had made several 
attempts to communicate the news to him, but whenever she 
had even mentioned Agnes’s name, he had commanded her to 
be silent. But Dr. Wayne, guessing at the truth, returned : 

“ Why, the fact is, Agnes and I, thought you wouldn’t care 
to hear.” 

“ Humph ! ” retorted Bonnard. “Had I known about it, 
we might all have been reunited years ago. Wouldn’t you 
have liked to have known me all the time, little one ? ” 

He laid his cheek against the child’s velvety face, and 
twined the soft curls round his fingers as he waited for her an- 
swer. But she had no answer to give beyond to smile up at 
him in an uncertain way, and gently caress his hand. 

“I’ll warrant,” continued Bonnard, “that you don’t love 
me — do you ? ” 

“Oh, yes, I do,” returned little Agnes, sweetly. “ I loved 
you even before I had seen you, because my father told me 
about you so often, and he said I must love you, because you 
were so good.” 

A thrill of pleasure shot through Bonnard’s heart. They 
had taught their child to love him, while he had resolutely 
been trying to forget, and turn his heart against them. Ah, 
that was love and friendship of a verity ! And if he made no 
remark to tell how pleased he was, it was because his heart was 
too full to express his feelings in words. 

When Agnes is alone with Estelle in her own pretty little 
room, and she observes with what loving care everything has 
been sacredly left unchanged, her heart is deeply touched. 

As she sits in one of the pretty easy chairs and looks about, 
it seems as though she had never left home. She sees her re- 
flection in the long, white-framed mirror almost the same as it 
was when she looked at herself seven years ago. There is but 
little change, except that she is a trifle older in appearance. 
The sweet face is just as it always was : cultured, serious, 
and loving. She turns away with a smile, and sees Estelle 
looking at her, and hears the question : 

“ Have you been happy all the while you were away ! ” 

The question is somewhat embarrassing, and brings the 
blushes to her cheeks and her eyes are cast down. But in an- 
other moment, she is kneeling beside Estelle, and with their 
arms about each other, she tells the story in a trembling voice : 

“No,” she says; “ I was not happy at first. He was ab 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


221 


ways good and kind to me, but I was never at peace with my- 
self. There was ever before my mind the picture of the dear 
old home. I wondered what you thought of me, and my 
heart was almost broken when I concluded that you must all 
hate me. Then, too, the people amongst whom we lived — be- 
lieving I was his wife — respected me, and I felt myself utterly 
unworthy of their kind regard, and was intensely miserable — 
although, God knows, the contempt I felt for myself was deep 
enough to have made me so. My only comfort was in 
Robert’s love. I knew him to be the soul of honor and good- 
ness, and therefore never feared that he would desert me. But 
at last perfect happiness became mine. He returned home 
one day with a letter from his lawyer explaining about his 
wife’s death, and we were married at once. Yet he was human 
enough to feel sorry as he thought of her pitiful death, and 
their bitter parting. Well, we were happy after that, and our 
darling girl brought if possible, deeper joy to our hearts. But 
the longing to return to the old home, to see you all, to kneel 
again beside my childhood’s bed, and thank God for his kindly 
bleesings, it seemed was to remain unfulfilled. But, Edward, 
poor boy ! has been the means of bringing it about — and now 
I am happy — happier than I ever thought I should be ! But,” 
she continued after a thoughtful pause, “ I shudder to think 
what my life might have been had I intrusted myself in the 
hands of a different man ” 

“ Think no longer of it, dear,” interrupted Estelle, kindly; 
“ but be thankful that it is as it is. Agnes, dear,” she said a 
little later, “ try and convince Robert that you will not like to 
leave Brooklyn. You can do that I am sure.” 

“Oh, yes,” Agnes replied with a bright smile, “ I could 
never bear to part with you all again. Besides, Robert has al- 
ready arranged his plans. He is going to get a house near 
here, where we will live — for home and old friends are best 
after all.” 

Estelle was delighted with this news, and declared that it 
corresponded with her own imagined plans for their future. 

That night long after the others were asleep, Agnes was re- 
joicing over hef perfect "happiness. 

* * * * * * 

The light of the shaded lamp is turned very low in Ed- 
ward’s sick room, and falls softly upon the invalid’s pale, thin 
face. His eyes are resting on the woman beside him, in a 
glance of love and tenderness too deep for utterance. He 
softly pats her hand as it lays in his 7 and whispers her name : 


222 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


“ Agnes.” 

She bends over him, and smiling sweetly, asks him if he 
wishes anything ; but he answers “ no,” and pats her hands 
and face with lingering caress. She can hardly hold back 
her tears, for every little while he goes through the same thing, 
and never seems to weary of having her near. 

Poor Edward is dying ! The doctors have said that he can 
last but a few days, and naturally the whole household is over- 
come with grief — for all loved him well. Agnes is always with 
him now. But he is not dying with his memory clouded. In 
the hours of death all is clear to him— all that occurred in the 
past ! Thus far he had not spoken much since the recovery 
of his memory, beyond to express to Agnes that he knows that 
what had happened was for the best. He also made his will, 
leaving everything he possessed to be equally shared between 
little Agnes Wayne, and his God-son, Master Edward Bon- 
nard. 

Some minutes pass in silence after Agnes has drawn back 
from him. In a little while he pats her hand again and 
whispers her name. But, unlike the time before, when she 
bends over him with her familiar smile and question, he re- 
turns that he wants to speak to her about when they were 
lovers. He smiles very bravely to assure her that it does not 
pain him to speak of it now, and she tells him she will listen. 
His voice is very faint and broken when he speaks, but he 
manages to say : 

“l cannot help but think Agnes, how very correct my 
mother’s judgment of your love for me was. I don’t mean to 
intimate that you are incapable of affection — for I know dif- 
ferently — nor do I mean to reproach you, for you were not to 
blame because your heart turned to another. I knew very 
little in comparison to what you did, dear, but I thought my 
love could make up for deficiencies in other directions. It 
never occurred to me that we were unfitted for each other, but 
it is so. You could never have been proud of me as you are 
of Dr. Wayne; and in time, although you would have been 
too generous and noble to ever admit it to be so, still you would 
have wearied of me, and I should have been miserable know- 
ing you had ceased to care for me. Don’t try to convince me 
otherwise, dear Agnes, for indeed, I assure you, that it gives 
me pleasure to believe so, when I think that my life might 
have been very, very miserable — whereas, it has been com- 
paratively happy. You were always tender and loving to me, 
my dearest, and may God bless' you for it ! Believe me r 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT. 


223 


Agnes, I am happy in the thought that I will soon be at rest ; 
although it is hard to part with you all. You will think of me 
sometimes though, won’t you, Agnes, of how I’ve loved you 
— and — and ’ ’ 

His voice faltered, and broke in a choking sob ; he clasped 
her hand closer and his eyes were full of beseeching as he raised 
them to her face. 

She laid her trembling lips to his brow, and murmured sweet 
words of comfort and loving assurance that as long as she lived 
she would never cease to think of him ; and gradually the 
smile comes back to his lips and he says : 

“ I don’t think that it is quite right, dear, for me to tell you 
how I hate to die, but it is so heart-breaking. Never again to 
see even little Ned, or have him tease me — the rascal ! Never 
to speak to Uncle, Louis, and Estelle again, who have all been 
so very kind to me — these many, many years. The doctor 
too, I bear him no malice, and your little one — I could have 
loved them both for your sake, dear. But never to rest my 

eyes again upon this dear face ” he lifted his trembling 

hands as he spoke, and put one on each side of her face, and 
softly and lovingly caressed her — “ah, this is hard to bear ! 
Even though I will know nothing of it in death, it is bitterest 
agony to me to think now that my eyes can rest but a short 
while longer on you. I had thought so many, many years 
were yet to be spent with you, dearest — to share in your hap- 
piness, so you can understand how disappointing it is. But, 
* there is light at the eventide/ my Agnes ! In a higher and 
nobler sphere we will meet again, dear, where peace and joy 
and love will reign supreme.” 

He seemed to gain great comfort from this last thought, and 
begged Agnes to pass her soothing hand over his forehead until 
he would fall asleep. * ***** 

It is again night. Agnes is sitting by poor Edward’s bed- 
side, his hand in hers, watching him with an agonized look. It 
is so terrible to think that he must die when only so very lately 
they have been reunited. Could death but be put off for a fevv 
years at least, how happy she would have made him. Not a 
moment of sorrow should he have known that she could have 
saved him from. Suddenly his eyes open wide and he 
whispers her name. She bends over him anxiously. 

“Iam slipping away from you, Agnes — slipping away, dear 
— I shall soon be gone ! Tell them I want to see them all 
once more before I die.” 

His face is ghastly. His eyes have in them a far-away ex' 


224 


THE MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT 


pression, and his voice is scarcely audible as he speaks. But 
Agnes guesses his desires from the terrible change that has sud- 
denly come over him, and hurries to a room adjoining where 
Dr. Wayne is asleep on a lounge. She awakens him and sends 
him to awaken the others, and then goes back to Edward. 

Yes, this is death ! The monster which no power can 
fight against, when once he has come to claim ! 

They gathered around the bedside, with frightened looks 
and trembling limbs. He gazes upon them, then faintly 
whispers : 

“ God bless you all ! ” 

His eyes rest on the sweet, serious, loving face then, that is 
bending over him, and he smiles while his lips form in the pro- 
nunciation of her name — although no sound issues from them. 
So he gazes into her eyes for a few moments, and then she 
bends lower still until her lips touch the cold ones beneath her. 
When she looked into his «yes, after raising her head, she 
knew that he was dead. 

Dead ! Oh, what consolation is there for the grief stricken 
friends who witness the passing away of one of their loved num- 
ber ? As Agnes looked into the poor face, bitter tears coursed 
down her cheeks — she felt that she was to blame for his death. 
It seemed to her that her cruelty in their love affair, however 
unintentional it had been, had eaten into his heart, and death 
had in some way resulted from that sole cause. There seemed 
to be no consolation for her anguish ; but suddenly, like a ra- 
diant, pitying light cast from a higher sphere came the recol- 
lection of his words : “ There is light at the eventide." 

These words seemed to breathe of such sweet peace that a 
smile came to her lips as she looked into his face. Yes, he was 
at rest ! — and how contented he looked ! His lips were frozen 
into a smile of unutterable happiness ! No, she would not re- 
call him from that beautiful sleep if she could. 

“ There is light at the eventide ! ” Oh, hallowed words, 
what sweet promise do they hold forth to those who suffer. 
Greater than untold riches is the comfort of their spiritual 
hope. Like a helping hand stretched out to save and bring joy 
to darkened hearts and souls again, do they light the path of 
our lives with their shining star of peaceful promise ! And 
so, in moments of darkest agony and grief, when mortal pow- 
er can avail nothing to sustain our misery, let us remember the 
exquisite words so full of pitying love and comfort : 

“ There is light at the eventide." 

THE END, 



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